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REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER 



REMINISCENCES 



AND 



ANECDOTES 



OF 



DANIEL WEBSTER 



By peter HARVEY 



BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 

1921 



<0 



i 
I 

i 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by 

LITTLE. BRO>Vlf, AND COMPANT, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 






PREFACE. 



It is now a quarter of a century — almost the life of an 
entire generation — since Daniel Webster died. During 
this period new issues have come to the front, the fires 
of by-gone contests have become harmless ashes, and the 
reunited Nation can look at such a life as this great man 
presents, with a calmer and wiser gaze than was possible 
in the nearer view of days that were fraught with war- 
ring convictions, now at last hushed to rest. Through a 
friendship which is one of my happiest and most grateful 
recollections, it was my privilege to be intimate with 
this man in life, and to receive his last messages upon 
the bed of death. ^ And now, as I feel myself drawing 
near to the end of this earthly existence, I desire to give 
to the world, and especially to the rising generation, a 
true insight into the structure of his character, which 

1 In a recent letter, addressed to the editor, Mr. C. A. Stetson gives 
the following interesting incident, showing Mr. Webster's implicit confi- 
dence in and strong afTection for Mr. Harvey : " During the negotiations 
- in 1842, Mr. Curtis and myself were sitting in Mr. Webster's study, in 
Washington, when the mail-bag was brought in. With other letters, one 
from Mr. Peter Harvey was opened. Mr. Curtis re^d it. Mr. Webster 
had asked a favor : it was granted. Mr. Curtis said : ' By Jove, he is 
St. Peter r 'No,' quickly replied Mr. Webster, ' Peter Harvey never 
denied his friend!' It seemed to me that a more lov'uig compliment 
nevpr had been paid to one who reverenced Mr. Webster." 



VI PREFACE. 

cannot be fully appreciated in simply reading the written 
records of his public career. 

His sweetness of temper, his kindness of heart, the 
depth of his friendships, his firm hold upon the facts of 
the Christian religion (as illustrated by the Colby and 
Benton stories related in the following pages), the pathos 
and humor of his home life, — these ought to be known 
and understood by the world. 

The greater part of the matter contained in these pages 
is derived from my own personal recollections of Mr. 
Webster, as the result of my long and familiar associa- 
tion with him. These recollections were dictated by 
me, from time to time, to a stenographer, from whose 
written-out notes they have been prepared for this book. 
Some of the papers and books from which these memora- 
bilia are taken were deposited with me, several years 
after Mr. Webster's death, by his son, Fletcher Webster ; 
and from that time to this they have been a precious 
legacy, which I now feel the country at large ought to 
share with me. 

I do not, in these pages, propose to write a Life of 
Daniel Webster. I am content to act only as the frail 
but necessary thread which binds these gathered leaves 
together. Mr. Webster has written his own biography 
in the strong and mimistakable impress he has made 
upon the country's history. I believe that the writings 
of no man, in the short but eventful history of the 
American Republic, are so destined for immortal fame 
as those of him whom it is my last wish to " delight to 
honor." 

Let me here state a fact about his memoiy, which, to 
my mind, is in every way worthy of the attention of the 
reader. It is this. I cannot but feel that the man who 
did the most to set forth Mr. Webster's life and genius 



PREFACE. Vn 

was Edward Everett. I see this fact in Mr. Everett's 
whole career ; in the depth of his sincerity and regard ; 
in his lifelong devotion, and in the uniformly affection- 
ate manner in which Mr. Webster always spoke of him. 

I well remember, in the year 1847, when riding with 
Mr. Webster to the Dedham Agricultural Fair-ground, 
on a pleasant September day, he said : " I have been 
thinking over what I propose to say, if called upon to 
make a speech. Mr. Everett was born in the county of 
Norfolk ; and, although it is not always wise to say com- 
plimentary things to a man's face, still I may never have 
a better opportunity, and I shall tell the Norfolk County 
people to-day what I think of their distinguished son. 
When I was appointed Secretary of State the first time, 
by General Harrison, one of the very first things I did, 
in the way of foreign appointments, was to select Mr. 
Everett to represent the Government at the Court of 
St. James. In such appointments, it has always seemed 
to me that we should choose men of character, who would 
represent the country at large, rather than be influenced 
by the bias of party ; for foreign nations judge of our 
people by the representative men whom we send out to 
them. Since that time I have had many letters from 
eminent statesmen abroad, thanking me for sending Mr. 
Everett ; for, in choosing him to represent us in the pres- 
ence of the English people, I sent them a man as well 
versed in their own history as any man living, with the 
exception of Macaulay. I am going to tell these people 
to-day just what I think of Mr. Everett, for I honor him 
and love him." 

In the address which he delivered upon this occasion, 
he carried out his intention formed in the carriage ; and, 
greatly to the surprise of eveiy one, and to the aston- 
ishment of Mr. Everett himself, pronounced a noble 



Viii PREFACE. 

eulogy upon his friend. Tliougli he was to come in town 
in the afternoon, and the carriage was at hand, he 
waited, saying : " Let us stop a moment, and see what 
Mr. Everett says." 

Mr. Everett, unconsciously flushed, rose and said : " It 
would not be becoming in me to bandy compliments 
with my illustrious friend. He has seen fit to compli- 
ment me upon my attainments in international law. I 
should not dare to say here how much personal friend- 
ship may have had to do with the picture he has drawn ; 
but this I will say, take from that knowledge of inter- 
national law what I have learned at his feet, and there 
would be nothing left worth mentioning." 

The strong friendship between these two men was 
never marred by a breath of suspicion or jealousy ; and, 
if I could have selected one man from the list of his 
many and distinguished friends to have written his Life, 
I should have had no hesitation in choosing Mr. Everett. 
I have often heard Mr. Webster say : " In the turmoil 
and confusion of party lines, when political friends might 
be forgetful of every thing save their own prospects, I 
never had a doubt or misgiving about two distinguished 
friends who were by my side, however public opinion 
might vary. One was Edward Everett ; the other was 
Rufus Choate." 

There were others, then, who could have written his 
Life more worthily than I. It is not my purpose, at this 
eleventh hour, to write it. I only wish to disclose to 
the public some of the inner traits of his character, to 
do his great memoiy full justice, and to paint him as he 
really was, to a new generation who know him not. And 
I feel that, unless I string together a few of these sacred 
and long-cherished reminiscences, they will be lost for 
iever in the hurry of the new generation. How many 



PREFACE. IX 

are the relationships this man sustained to the public 
whom he served, and to the private few to whom he was 
a delight ! How true was his fidelity to the network of 
responsibilities that rested upon him ! 

There comes to my mind, as I write, the remembrance 
of his address at Saratoga during the Harrison campaign, 
when, as it may be remembered, the Whigs were much 
given to glorifying the humble birth of their candi- 
date for the Presidency. In this address he made the 
following allusion to the circumstances of his own 
birth : " It did not happen to me, gentlemen, to be born 
in a log-cabin ; but my elder brothers and sisters were 
born in a log-cabin, raised amid the snow-drifts of New 
Hampshire, at a period so early that, when the smoke first 
rose from its rude chimney and curled over the frozen hills, 
there was no similar evidence of a white man's habitation 
between it and the settlements on the rivers of Canada. 
Its remains still exist. I make to it an annual visit ; I 
carry my children to it, to teach them the hardships en- 
dured by the generations which have gone before them. 
I love to dwell on the tender recollections, the kindred 
ties, the early affections, and the touching narratives and 
incidents which mingle with all I know of this primitive 
family abode. I weep to think that none of those who 
inhabited it are now among the living ; and if ever I am 
ashamed of it, or if ever I fail in affectionate veneration 
for him who reared it and defended it against savage 
violence and destruction, cherished all the domestic vir- 
tues beneath its roof, and, through the fire and blood of 
a seven years' Revolutionary war, shrunk from no danger, 
no toil, no sacrifice, to serve his country and to raise his 
children to a condition better than his own, — may my 
name and the name of my posterity be blotted for ever 
from the memory of mankind ! " 



X PREFACE. 

It is a great satisfaction to me to present to the read- 
ers of this volume an Appendix, descriptive of the statue 
of Webster given by Mr. GORDON W. Buenhaai, of New 
York, to that city, containing among other notable ad- 
dresses delivered on that occasion the eloquent and most 
fitting address of our distinguished townsman, the Hon. 
Robert C. Winthrop. 

My thanks are due to Professor Sanborn, of Dart- 
mouth College, who has furnished me from time to time 
with papers and anecdotes which he himself had gath- 
ered through his intimate relationship with the family 
of Ezekiel Webster. 

I wish also to express my satisfaction at the able and 
efficient manner in which Mr. George M. Towle has 
assisted me in preparmg, duruig the hours of my physical 
weakness, these gathered fragments of my friend's event- 
ful history for publication. 

My prayer is that posterity may value this life, which 
to me has been so inexpressibly dear ; and that, " since 
he had the genius to be loved," he may, indeed, " have 
the justice to be honored in his grave." 

PETER HARVEY. 

Parker House, 
Boston, May 24, 1877. 



C O ]N^ T E N T S. 



-K>^ 



Chapter Paqb 

I. Early Years 1 

II. As A Law Student 30 

m. At the Bar 44 

IV. At the Bar (continued) 79 

V. At the Bar {continued) ....... 114 

VI. Public Life 147 

Yl\. Mr. Webster and his Contejiporaries . . 205 

VIII. Home Life : Marshfield and Franklin . . 263 

IX. Personal Traits 316 

X. Personal Traits {continued) 355 

XI. Religious Thoughts and Feelings .... 393 

Xn. Last Days and Death 422 

Appendix 449 

Index 475 



REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 



CHAPTER I. 

EAELY YEARS. 

Daniel Webster was born in the town of Salis- 
bury, New Hampshire, on the eighteenth day of 
January, 1782. He was the ninth in a family of 
ten children, and was the son of Ebenezer Webster 
by his second wife, Abigail Eastman. 

Of the house where he was born scarcely a ves- 
tige now remains. It was a plain, brown, substan- 
tial New England farm-house, standing a little 
above the high-road, and upon a hill which over- 
looked the picturesque and winding valley of the 
Merrimac. The old cellar, choked with weeds and 
rubbish, is all that is left, to designate where the 
house stood. Not far from its site, however, may 
still be seen the ruins of an old well, dug by his 
father long before Daniel was born, and from which 
the family derived their supply of water. Just by 
the well, in which still hangs, or hung a few years 
since, an " iron-bound bucket," is an ancient and 
uuibrngeous elm, affording a grateful shade to those 
who choose to enjoj' it in summer ; and round 

about are some old fruit trees which Colonel Eben- 

i 



2 ee:\iiniscences of daniel webster. 

ezer AVebster planted. It was Daniel Webster's 
custom to visit the scene of his childhood almost 
every year for over half a century ; and he loved 
to sit under the old Avide-spreading elm, beneath 
which he had played and romped in the days of 
his infancy, and to drink of the still cool and deli- 
cious water of the moss-grown well. Near by where 
the house stood, ran a rapid and bubbling stream, 
called "Punch Brook." It has now dwindled to 
a little rivulet, which feebly trickles on its way 
through field and meadow to the river. On the 
other side of the highway, a little beyond the site 
of the old homestead, is the plac^ where stood the 
mill built by Colonel Webster, though but little re- 
mains of the building now. The neighborhood is 
rugged ; granite rocks and ledges appear on every 
hand : nor does the soil yield very abundantly to 
the farmer's toil. Two years after Daniel's birth, 
his father moved to Elms Farm, not far from the 
old place, of which we shall speak further on. 

Colonel Ebenezer Webster, the father of Daniel, 
was one of those stalwart, vigorous, strong-minded, 
and hardy-bodied yeomen, for whom the Granite 
State is celebrated. He was a wise man and a 
patriot, a hard worker, and an energetic and public- 
spirited citizen. Born in 1739, he was old enough, 
when the French War broke out, to serve in it ,is 
a soldier. At the age of eighteen he enlisted in 
the famous Rodgers' Rangers, comprising some of 
the boldest and most rugged of the New England 
yeomanry. The}^ had to go doubly armed, and 
to carry with them both snow-shoes and skates, to 



EARLY YEARS. 3 

be used when occasion required. Their packs were 
of double weight. Webster served with Stark, 
Putnam, and others, who were afterwards Revolu- 
tionary heroes. These Rangers fought desperate 
battles, and won brilliant victories on the borders 
of Lake George. Webster afterwards served un- 
der General Amherst, at the taking of Ticonderoga 
and Crown Point. In 1761, he removed to Salis- 
bury, where he purchased a farm, erected the first 
mill in the town, married, and settled down to 
earn such a living as he could by tilling the not 
very hospitable soil. Soon a sturdy family of chil- 
dren began to grow up around him, and he found 
it difficult to supply their needs ; but he speedily 
became prominent in town affairs, and took a lead- 
ing part in its business. He was chosen succes- 
sively surveyor of highway's, moderator, selectman, 
town clerk, representative, senator, a delegate to 
the convention " for forming a permanent plan of 
government," in 1778, and a delegate to the con- 
stitutional convention in 1788 ; and, in the later 
years of his life, he sat on the bench as a judge 
of the Court of Common Pleas for Hillsborough 
County. 

Meanwhile, the outbreak of the Revolutionary 
War opened for Ebenezer Webster a sphere of 
usefulness to the country, which took him away 
from farm and town-meeting, and which he en- 
tered upon with a patriotic zeal and ardor aU his 
own. When the war broke out, he was captain of 
the Salisbury militia, composed of sturdy and in- 
telligent yeomen like liimself. The news of Lex- 



4 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

ington and Concord aroused his energetic spirit, 
and he promptly led his company, consisting of 
about seventy-five men, to join the rapidly swelling 
Continental forces at Cambridge. At this time he 
was in the full vigor of sturdy manhood. "As an 
officer," says one who wrote of him some years 
ago, "he was beloved by his soldiers, and always 
had their entire confidence. He was born to com- 
mand. He was in stature about six feet ; of a 
massy frame, a voice of great compass, eyes black 
and piercing, a countenance open and ingenuous, 
and a complexion that could not be soiled by 
powder. He was the very man to head the proud 
columns of the Sons of Liberty." 

Arriving at the seat of war soon after the battle 
of Bunker Hill, his company was added to the 
little army of minute men who were fast gather- 
ing from every part of New England. These 
minute men were not incorporated in the militia, 
but served as volunteers without pay. They were 
not soldiers by trade, but real patriots ; and when 
they had gathered in their harvests, and had a 
month or two to spare, they would go and give 
their services to the country. Then they would 
retura home, dig their potatoes, look after their 
families, and hurry away again to the camp and 
the battle-field. Daniel Webster often talked with 
me of his father's military career. 

It was while Captain Webster was stationed with 
his company in the vicinity of Boston, that he had 
the signal honor of being awarded the duty of 
guarding the commander-in-chief. Washington 



EARLY YEARS. 5 

had but recently arrived and placed himself at 
the head of the little and not too well organized 
Continental army. His camp was on Dorchester 
Heights, and Captain Webster had just come from 
New Hampshire with a quota of minute men. 
This event in his father's life was always a source 
of great pride to Daniel Webster. One day, in 
1840, he was travelling in Virginia with his son 
Fletcher, who observed that he was in a thought- 
ful, silent mood. 

" What is the matter, father ? " asked Fletcher. 
" Are you not well ? " 

" Yes, oh yes ; but I was thinking, Fletcher, of 
an old man, upwards of eighty years of age, whom 
I met in New Hampshire the other day. He told 
me some interesting incidents about your grand- 
father. He said that he was one of the company 
of minute men that Captain Webster commanded. 
He spoke of their being on Dorchester Heights at 
the time General Washington had his camp there. 
A detachment of my father's company was dele- 
gated to guard-duty around Washington's tent. 
The weather was frosty ; and this old man was one 
day walking to and fro before the tent, when the 
side opened, and the tall figure of Washington ap- 
peared before him. He looked up at the sky, and 
then turning, said to the sentry : ' Soldier, who is 
the commander of your company ? ' ' Captain 
Webster, of the New Hampshire minute men/ 
' When you are relieved from guard,' returned 
Washington, ' say to Captain Webster that I should 
like to see him at my tent early in the morning.' 



G IlEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

The sentry delivered the message, and my father 
afterwards told him what Washington had said. 
He wished to consult him as to the feeling in New 
Hampshire; asked him about the patriotic senti- 
ment among his neighbors, — whether they had 
counted the cost of resistance to the British, and 
were ready to throw away the scabbard, and spend 
and be spent in the cause. Washington talked 
an hour with the captain, offered him refresh- 
ments, and when he retired, shook him warmly 
by the hand. Fletcher," added Mr. Webster, "I 
should rather have it said upon my father's tomb- 
stone that he had guarded the person of George 
Washington, and was worthy of such a trust, than 
to have emblazoned upon it the proudest insignia 
of heraldry that the world could give ! " 

Washington need scarcely have asked Ebenezer 
Webster if his New Hampshire neighbors were in 
earnest, had he seen the pledge which Webster 
himself drew up and persuaded eighty-four of his 
townsmen to sign at the beginning of the war. 
This pledge ran as follows : — 

" We do solemnly engage and promise that we 
will, to the utmost of our power, at the risk of 
our lives and fortunes, with arms, oppose the hos- 
tile proceedings of the British fleets and armies 
against the United American Colonies." 

In the last year of his life, Daniel Webster thua 
spoke of the signers of this pledge : " In looking 
up this record, thus connected with the men of my 
birthplace, I confess I was gratified to find who 
were the signers and who were the dissentients 



EAT?LY YEARS. 7 

Among the former was he from whom I am im- 
mediately descended, with all his brothers, and his 
whole kith and kin. This is sufficient emblazonry 
for my arms ; enough of heraldry for me." 

Ebenezer Webster participated in the war, al- 
w^ays with gallantry and courage, from beginning 
to end. He took part in the battles of White 
Plains and Bennington, and in 1780 was posted at 
West Point. This was shortly before Benedict 
Arnold's treason ; and on the evening of the day 
when the traitor's designs were revealed to Wash- 
ington, whose headquarters were then at West 
Point, he summoned Captain Webster to his tent, 
and ordered him to guard it that night. " I be- 
lieve I can trust you," he said, with a smile. Thus 
Ebenezer Webster had the good fortune to protect 
Washington's life a second time. It was stated by 
Webster that Washington did not sleep that night, 
but restlessly paced up and down in his tent, or 
wrote busily at his camp-table, till daylight. 

During the war, Captain Webster was appointed 
one of a committee to ascertain what each towns- 
man of Salisbury ought to contribute to the ex- 
penses of the war, and to levy a tax accordingly. 
The richest man in the town, who had not done 
any military duty, declared that his share was too 
large, and refused to pay it. The committee went 
to him, and Webster, as their spokesman, addressed 
hnn thus: " Sir, our authorities require us to fight 
a7id pay. Now, you must pay or fight." The 
man refused the tax no loneer. 

As a magistrate, Ebenezer Webster was noted 



8 KEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

for his honesty and judgment, his careful con- 
sideration of the cases that came before him, and 
the comprehensive and concise method of his 
decisions. In serving the town, his own estimate 
of his services was modest enough, and is an ex- 
ample to the officials of the present day. He 
charged three or four shillings a day for his time 
as a town officer. He was not less prominent in 
church affairs, than in military ability and in the 
public business of the town ; was often a member 
of important committees, and was one of the elders 
of the Salisbury Church for many years. He died 
in 1806. 

Ebenezer Webster had ten children by his two 
wives ; five sons and five daughters. His eldest 
son, Ebenezer Webster, succeeded to the farm in 
Salisbury, where he lived quietly until his death. 
The next child was a daughter, Olivia, who died 
early. The second daughter, Susannah, married 
John Colby, of Boscawen, and also died at an early 
age. The second son, David, was a farmer ; he 
moved with his family, when quite a young man, 
to Canada, where he lived and died, leaving many 
children. Joseph, the third son, was also a farmer, 
and noted for his ready wit; he died in 1810. 
The third daughter, Mehitabel, never married, and 
died at the age of thirty-seven ; and the fourth, 
Abigail, married a Mr. Haddock, of Franklin, and 
died early. The three youngest children were 
Ezekiel, Daniel, and Sarah. The latter married 
and lived in Franklin, dying in her twenty-first 
year. 



EARLY YEA lis. 9 

In one of Daniel Webster's diaries, in my pos- 
session, he thus tonchingly and eloquently alludes 
to the members of his father's family, and the fact 
of his surviving them all : — 

" 1839, Jan. 18, Friday. I am this day fifty- 
seven years old. My brothers and sisters have all 
died young-. I was by much the most slender and 
feeble of the family in early life ; but have yet 
outlived them all, and no one of them, I think, 
attained my present age : although I am not quite 
certain how this may have been with my half- 
brother, David Webster, who was older than my- 
self by ten or twelve years, and who died in 
Canada some years ago, — exactly at what time, 
I do not know. My father died at sixty-seven. 
His constitution, naturally strong, was evidently 
affected by the hardships and exposures of his 
early life. My uncle, Benjamin Webster, lived to 
a great age, — I believe above eighty years. He 
died in Cabot, or the adjoining town, in Vermont. 
My uncle William Webster went to Salisbury with 
my father. He died several years ago, being then 
much the longest resident in the township, and 
being, I think, something more than seventy years 
of age. My paternal aunts lived, so far as I re- 
member, to be seventy or more. My mother also 
reached seventy. Her mother, Mrs. Gerusha Fitz, 
whom I well remember, died in my father's house, 
about June, 1796, aged about ninety years. My 
own health, from the age of twenty-five, has been 
remarkably good ; and for little occasional illnesses 
I have too often been able to see obvious causes 



]0 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

in want of proper care and discretion. If I were 
now to strike out of the number of iny sick days 
those which have been occasioned by want of 
proper exercise, by unnecessary exposure, and by 
some degree of intemperance in eating and drink- 
ing, I should make a very great deduction from the 
whole list. For this uncommon health, and for all 
the happiness of a life which has been, so far, ex- 
ceedingly happy, I desire to render the most devout 
thanks to Almighty God. I thank him for exist- 
ence ; for the pleasure and the glory of rational 
being ; for an immortal nature ; and for all the 
gratifications, the joys, and the means of improve- 
ment, with which he has blessed my earthly life ; 
for the time and the country in which I have lived ; 
and for those objects of love and affection, whose 
being has been entwined with my own." 

For his own brother, Ezekiel Webster, Daniel 
had not only the most devoted affection, but the 
most exalted respect. In his early years, he 
looked as anxiously for Ezekiel's approval of all 
his acts, as Coriolanus did for that of his mother. 
His confidence in his elder brother's judgment was 
unbounded ; his reliance upon his wisdom and 
counsel was without limit. When he had brought 
the whole nation to pay homage at his feet for the 
splendor of his triumph in the Hayne debate, 
Daniel Webster had one keen regret. 

" How I wish," he sorrowfully exclaimed, " that 
my poor brother had lived till after this speech, 
for I know that he would have been gratified by 
it ! " It is not strange that these brothers had so 



EARLY YEARS. 11 

Strong a mutual attachment to each other. The}' 
were not only own brothers, but were nearly of the 
same age, and grew up together on the paternal 
farm. They shared each other's toils and hard- 
ships, and these were by no means trifling. It 
has already been said that Ebenezer Webster found 
it difficult to force a subsistence for his large 
family from the unyielding soil ; and as soon as his 
sons were old enough to work, they began to 
assist him. Ezekiel and Daniel, both endowed 
with uncommon minds, aspired to something 
higher than the existence of farmers. They were 
ambitious to go to college ; and they knew that, ii 
they did so, they must work their own way. They 
both labored in the old saw-mill on the banks of 
the Merrimac ; and after Daniel, who was the more 
frail and dehcate of the two, left home at the age 
of fourteen for college, Ezekiel remained at home, 
aiding in the support of the family, until he was 
twenty. He thus developed the sturdy and noble 
frame which was so often remarked afterwards, 
when he became prominent at the New Hampshire 
bar. But Daniel, though away, and pursuing his 
studies at Hanover, did not forget that it was his 
brother's ambition, as well as his own, to acquire a 
liberal education. He wrote home urgently en- 
treating his father to release Ezekiel from his farm 
duties, and to allow him to attend the Academy. 
Although Ebenezer Webster was embarrassed in his 
finances, with all his property heavily mortgaged, 
he consented. But the brothers, in thus leaving 
home, did not cease to aid in the support of the 



12 KEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

family. They resolved to do all that in them lay 
to pay their father's debts, and to impart comfort to 
the old homestead. Bravely they advanced to the 
battle of life, and cheerfully they met the many 
difficulties and obstacles that lay in their path. 
Their success was due to their own industry, 
perseverance, and pluck, and the steadfast cour- 
age with which they faced the trials of their early 
years. 

It appears from a statement made by Mr. Web- 
ster in after years, that they shared the meagre 
contents of a common purse until they had fully 
established themselves in their profession. When 
Daniel was teaching in Fryeburg, he on one occa- 
sion returned home by way of Hanover, where 
Ezekiel was at colle<>:e. The first thins; he did was 
to find out whether his brother was in want of 
money ; and, although his own salary as a teacher 
was scarcely more than the wages of a daily la- 
borer, he was quite ready to help Ezekiel if he 
needed it. The result of his visit may be told in 
his own words : " We walked and talked during 
a long evening ; and finally, seated upon an old 
log, not far from the college, I gave to Ezekiel 
one hundred dollars, — the result of my labors in 
teaching and recording deeds, after paying my 
own debts, — leaving to myself but three dollars 
to get home with." But neither the assistance of 
his father nor of his younger brother enabled Eze- 
kiel to pursue his college course without interrup- 
tion. He was obliged to eke out his expenses by 
taking charge of a private school i.u Boston, keep- 



EARLY YEARS, 13 

ing pace with his college class as best he could in 
the odd hours when he was not teaching. The 
condition on which he took the school was that 
the tuition paid during the first terra should go to 
the retiring master, — a bargain wdiich deprived 
Ezekiel of ready money for three months. It ia 
interesting to know that among his pupils at this 
school were Edward Everett and George Ticknor. 
He even added more burdens to himself, by under- 
taking, in addition to his day school, an evening 
school for sailors. The letters of the two brothers 
at this trying period of their lives give us a clear 
insight into their position as well as characters, and 
are full of interest. Daniel, in a letter to a class- 
mate in 1801, discloses the poverty and struggles 
of the family, and his own exertions at once to 
relieve them and to enable Ezekiel to finish his 
college course. He says : " Returning home after 
Commencement, I found, on consideration, that it 
would be impossible for my father, under exist- 
ing circumstances, to keep Ezekiel at college. 
Drained of all his little income by the expenses 
of my education thus far, and broken down in 
his exertions by some family occurrences, I saw 
he could not afford Ezeldel means to live abroad 
with ease and independence, and I knew too well 
t-he evils of penury to wish him to stay half 
beggared at college. I thought it, therefore, my 
duty to suffer some delay in my profession, for 
the sake of serving my elder brother, and was 
making a little interest in some places to the east- 
ward for employment." The result of " making 



14 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

a little interest eastward " was, that he got the 
school at Fryeburg, and postponed the law to a 
more favorable epoch. 

Ezekiel's letters at this time show at once the 
extremities to which he was now and then reduced, 
and the unconquerable buoyancy of spirit which 
he carried through all his difficulties. They are 
also full of wit and wisdom. 

The close and loving friendship between Daniel 
and Ezekiel Webster remained intact as long as the 
latter lived. As late as 1828, — the year before 
Ezekiel's death, — Daniel was seeking his counsel 
and approval as eagerly, now that he had become 
famous in the Senate and at the bar, as when 
they were struggling youths with a common 
purse. 

Ezekiel was thought, by many persons who had 
the opportunity of judging his qualities, the equal 
of his more celebrated brother in intellectual en- 
dowments. Their father was wont to say that 
" Ezekiel could not tell half he knew ; but Daniel 
could tell more than he knew." Ezekiel's great 
failing was his timidity, while Daniel was as bold 
and fearless as a lion. Still, the elder brother's 
talents won him high rank both as a lawyer and 
as a politician. He rose to be the head of the bar 
of his native State, served often in both branches 
ot the Legislature ; and, at the time of his death. 
in the very prime of his years, is pronounced to 
have been " by far the most worthy and influen- 
tial man in New Hampshire." It was on the 10th 
of April, 1829, that Ezekiel Webster, at the age of 



EARLY YEAKS. 15 

forty-nine, fell suddenly dead in the midst of a 
brilliant argument, in the court-house at Concord, 
at the very feet of the judges. His death was 
caused by heart disease. 

The intelligence that his revered and beloved 
brother was no more was carried to Daniel Web- 
ster by a gentleman named Homans, who related 
to me what passed. This gentleman was then but 
a young man, a clerk in a store. At that period 
railroads were unknown, and it was slow travelling 
by stage-coach, in the early spring, from New 
Hampshire to Boston. 

" I acquainted Mr. Webster," said he, " with the 
news of the death of his brother. The driver of 
the coach from Concord brought this news to the 
Elm Street house. He had fallen dead the day 
before in the court-house. The driver wished to 
know where Mr. Webster lived, so as to go and 
tell him. I said that 1 knew, and would perform 
the melancholy errand. So I went to Summer 
Street, and rang the bell, it being nearly two 
o'clock in the morning. Pretty soon Mr. Webster 
made his appearance at the window over the bal- 
cony, and called out, — 

" ' Who is there ? What is wanted ? ' 

" I replied : ' I have important news for you, 
sir, from New Hampshire.' 

" ' I will be down in a moment,' he said. 

"He descended, partially dressed, and opened 
the door. He looked at me earnestly. 

" ' I have news from your brother,' said I. 
Is my brother dead ? ' - 



(( i 



16 EEIMLNISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTEK. 



" ^ He is ; and here is a letter containing the 
particulars of the event.' 

" He took the letter with a trembling hand, and 
bade me walk in. For an instant he seemed per- 
fectly stunned ; but soon recovered himself, and 
read the letter. 

" I asked if he had any wishes as to a relay of 
horses for the return stage. 

" ' Yes,' he replied ; ' I am much obliged to you 
for mentioning it. But before making any ar- 
rangements, I have a most painful duty to per- 
form ; and how I can discharge it I scarcely know. 
Mrs. Webster, my brother's wife, is now under my 
roof, with her daughter. I must break this to her 
at once.' 

" He took the candle, and ascended the stairs ; 
and I heard a tap on a door, which presently 
opened. I heard no conversation ; but soon a 
terrific shriek rang through the house. In a few 
moments Mr. Webster came downstairs, in tears. 
He was, however, very deliberate about the ar- 
rangements for departure, and said he would be 
ready in two hours. He told me to get a comfort- 
able carriage, to hold three persons ; which I has- 
tened to do. They left town at four o'clock. 1 
shall never forget the expression of anguish that 
appeared upon Mr. Webster's face when the sad 
news was broken to him. He tried to hold his 
feelings in subjection, but seemed to be utterly 
overcome by the depth of his grief." 

Let us now revert to the earlier period of Mr. 
Webster's life. As has been said, he worked on 



EAKLY YEARS. 17 

his father's farm and at the old mill in his boy- 
hood ; and he always looked back to those years 
with fondness and affection. For his father and 
mother he had a deep-rooted love. He has de- 
scribed his father to me as a man of great kindness 
of heait, as well as energy and determination. He 
was strongly attached to his childhood's home and 
the memories of the years there spent. 

One day, after he had been on a visit to Elms 
Farm, he met me at the Revere House, and took 
out of his pocket a little parcel. It proved to con- 
tain a Japan teaspoon. It was all corroded with 
rust, and half eaten up. 

" A week ago," said he, " my gardener found 
that spoon in the garden, near the house where I 
was born. I may have taken pap with that very 
spoon ; it is just the kind we used to have. What 
associations the sight of it brings up ! — what associa- 
tions of early life ! That and the Bohea tea : that 
was what stirred the Bohea tea. I would not take 
a thousand dollars for that spoon ! " 

He attended school at intervals at the district 
schools in the neighborhood, and was at different 
times under Masters Tappan, Chase, and Hoyt ; 
and at the age of thirteen entered Phillips Acad- 
emy at Exeter, then recently founded. There he 
prepared for college, remaining at the academy 
nine months ; and completed his preparation with 
the Rev. Samuel Wood, in Boscawen, — the town 
which adjoined Salisbury. In 1797, at the age of 
fifteen, he entered Dartmouth College, where he 
graduated in the summer of 1801. 



18 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

Master Tappan, one of his early schoolmasters, 
who lived to a great age, and saw with intense 
pride the fame and position attained by his whilom 
pupil, has left an interesting account of him as 
he appeared in school. He was the brightest of 
all the boys, says Master Tappan, and quicker at 
his studies than Ezekiel. " On a Saturday, I re- 
member," the ancient pedagogue goes on, " I held 
up a handsome new jack-knife to the scholars, and 
said that the boy who would commit to memory 
the greatest number of verses in the Bible by 
Monday morning should have it. Many of the 
boj^s did well ; but when it came Daniel's turn to 
recite, I found that he had committed so much, that, 
after hearing him repeat some sixty or seventy 
verses, I was obliged to give up, — he telling me 
that there were several chapters yet that he had 
learned. Daniel got that jack-knife. Ah, sir ! he 
was remarkable even as a boy ; and I told his 
father he would do God's work injustice if he did 
not send both Daniel and Ezekiel to college." 

The following incident occurred during the boy- 
hood of Daniel, which is well worth relating, as 
illustrative of his energy and resolution. While 
he and his brother were living at home, they on 
one occasion made a journey to the upper part 
of Vermont, to visit their uncle Benjamin. On 
the way, they overtook a teamster with a heavy 
load, whose horses had stopped and refused to go 
further, when the team was half way up a steep 
liill. The horses and wagon were so situated across 
the road, that it was impossible for the brothers to 



EARLY YEARS. 19 

pass in their chaise. After some time spent by the 
teamster in trying to start his horses, he left them 
and went in search of help. Daniel said to Eze- 
kiel, " Come, we can start this team. You put 
your shoulder to the hind wheel, and I will mount 
the near horse." 

This was no sooner said than done. Ezekiel put 
his sturdy shoulder to the wheel ; Daniel mounted 
the horse, whipped, and shouted at him. The 
horses pulled together, and away they went ; and 
the load was soon drawn to the top of the hill. 
When the man returned, he found his horses 
quietly resting by the roadside, at the summit, 
and the Websters out of sight. 

Mr. Webster was once telling me about a plain- 
spoken neighbor of his father, whose sons were 
schoolmates of his own. This neighbor had moved 
into the neighborhood of Hanover, where he had 
opened a little clearing, and had settled upon a 
piece of comparatively barren land. After Daniel 
had been in college several months, his father said 
to him, — 

" John Hanson is away up there somewhere. I 
should like to know how he is getting along. I 
think you had better find him out, and go and see 
him." 

So Daniel inquired about, and soon found out 
pretty nearly where Hanson lived. 

" One Saturday afternoon," related Mr. Webster, 
" I thought I would trudge up there through the 
woods, and spend Sunday with my old friends. 
After a long, tedious walk, I began to think T 



20 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

should never find the place; but I finally did: 
and when I got there, I was pretty well tired out 
with climbing, jumping over logs, and so on. The 
family were not less delighted than surprised to 
see me ; but they were as poor as Job's cat. They 
were reduced to the last extreme of poverty, and 
their house contained but one apartment, with a 
rude partition to make two rooms. I saw how 
matters were ; but it was too late to go back, and 
they seemed really glad to see me. They confessed 
to me that they had not even a cow or any pota- 
toes. The only thing they had to eat was a bundle 
of green grass and a little hog's lard ; and they 
actually subsisted on this grass fried in the hog's 
fat. But," said Mr. Webster, emphatically, " it 
was not so bad, after all. They fried up a great 
platter of it, and I made my supper and breakfast 
off it. About a year and a half afterwards, just 
before graduating, I thought that, before leaving 
Hanover, I would go and pay another visit to 
the Hansons. I found that they had improved 
somewhat, for they now had a cow and plenty of 
plain, homely fare. I spent the night, and was 
about to leave the next morning, when Hanson 
said to me, — 

" ^ Well, Daniel, you are about to graduate. 
You ve got through college, and have got college 
larnin', — and now, what are you going to do 
with it ? ' 

" I told him I had not decided on a profession. 

" * Well,' said he, ' you are a good boy ; your 
father was a kind man to me, and was always kind 



EARLY YEARS. 21 

to the poor. I should Hke to do a kind turn for 
him and his. You 've got through college ; and 
people that go through college either become 
ministers, or doctors, or lawyers. As for bein' a 
minister, T would never think of doin' that : they 
never get paid any thing. Doctorin' is a miser- 
able profession ; they live upon other people's 
ailin's, are up nights, and have no peace. And as 
for bein' a lawyer, I would never propose that to 
anybody. Now,' said he, ' Daniel, I '11 tell you 
what ! You are a boy of parts ; you understand 
this book-larnin', and you are bright. I knew a 
man who had college larnin' down in Rye, where I 
lived when I was a boy. That man was a con- 
jurer ; he could tell, by consul tin' his books, and 
study, if a man had lost his cow, where she was. 
That was a great thing ; and if people lost any 
thing, they would think nothin' of payin' three or 
four dollars to a man like that, so as to find their 
property. There is not a conjurer within a hun- 
dred miles of this place ; and you are a bright 
boy, and have got this college larnin'. The best 
thing you can do, Daniel, is to study that, and be 
a conjurer ! 

Mr. Webster used to tell, with great gusto, 
many stories about his early life. One was as fol- 
lows: He was once at home from college on a 
vacation, in the winter time. It happened that 
a neighbor was going up to Lebanon, which was 
about four miles from Hanover, the seat of the col- 
lege. His father had asked this neighbor to carry 
Daniel back with him when he went. This he 



22 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

agreed to do, at least as far as Lebanon ; and 
Daniel was to walk the remaining four miles. 
Daniel's mother had packed his little trunk, and 
he was to start very early in the morning. They 
set out accordingly, in an old-fashioned, square- 
boxed pung-sleigh, which contained several barrels 
of cider, to be sold by the owner at Lebanon. It 
was a cold, frosty, snappy morning, and by sunrise 
they had got a mile on their way. Daniel wore 
his new clothes and mittens, made by his mothers 
own fond hands : she had spun, woven, and dyed 
them. In the course of the morning they reached 
a stream, where the bridge had been carried away 
by a recent flood, and was lodged just below the 
road. They saw that the stream could be crossed 
only by fording, and the neighbor, after looking at 
Daniel, said, — 

" You 've got tight boots on ; suppose you take 
the reins and drive." 

Daniel did as he was bid, while his companion 
jumped out to walk across over the broken bridge. 

" I drove down cautiously," said Mr. Webster, 
describing the scene, " and aU seemed favorable to 
a safe passage ; when suddenly the pung sank, and 
I found myself up to my aniipits in the water. 
The horse plunged forward, and reached the oppo- 
site bank, when, almost as quickly as I am telling 
you, my clothes became a solid cake of ice. It 
was some distance to any dwelling, and in my 
condition I was sure of freezing to death very soon 
unless I was relieved. So I jumped out of the 
pleigh, and told the man to drive as fast as he 



EARLY YEARS. 23 

could. I took hold of the little iron rod at the 
back of the pimg, and he plied the whip lustily. 
I sometimes came near falling, but managed to 
hold on, and was kept from freezing, by the rapid 
motion of the sleigh, till we reached a house. I 
went in and asked the lady, who was at home 
alone, if she would give me a chance to dry my 
clothes. She said she would. Then I asked her, 
' Can't you put me into a room where there is a bed, 
and take my clothes and dry them ? ' She said 
that she could, and it was accordingly so arranged. 
It was a full hour and a half before I fully recovered 
and felt comfortable again ; but the fact was then 
apparent that the contents of my mother s dye-joot 
were left on my body instead of on my clothes ! '' 

While in college, Mr. Webster often indulged 
his literary muse, and not seldom tried his hand 
at poetry. One of his poems, serious and full of 
grave thought, appeared in the " Dartmouth 
Gazette," in December, 1799, and was as fol- 
lows : — 

" Happy are they who, far removed from war, 
And all its train of woes, in tranquil peace 
And joyful plenty, pass the winter's eve. 
Such bliss is thine, Columbia! Bless thy God! 
The toil and labor of the year now o'er, 
Wliile Sol scarce darts a glimmering, trembling beam, 
While Boreas' blast blows bleak along the plain ; 
Around the social fire, content and free. 
Thy sons shall taste the sweets Pomona gives, 
Or reap the blessings of domestic ease. 
Or else, in transport, tread the mountain snow, 
And leap the cragg}' cliff, robust and stroirg — 
Till from the lucid chambers of the South 
The joyous Spring looks out and hails the world! " 



24 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER 

He expressed a similar idea in a noble and beau- 
tiful passage of a speech delivered in Congress in 
1814: — 

" I am not anxious," he said, " to accelerate the 
approach of the period when the great mass of 
American labor shall not find its employment in 
the field; when the young men of the country 
shall be obhged to shut their eyes upon external 
nature, upon the heavens and the earth, and im- 
mure themselves in close, unwholesome workshops ; 
when they shall be obliged to shut their ears to 
the bleatings of their own flocks upon their own 
hills, and to the voice of the lark that cheers them 
at the plow, — that they may open them in dust 
and smoke and steam, to the perpetual whirl of 
spools and spindles, and the grating of rasps and 
saws ! " 

It has already been seen with what generous spirit 
of self-sacrifice Daniel Webster interrupted his law 
studies in order to lend aid to the education of 
Ezekiel. This, as I have said, he resolved to do by 
teaching school, a frequent resource then as now 
with poor young men just out of college, who sought 
a temporary way of making a living. This was in 
the winter and spring of 1802. The scene of his 
brief but successful career as a teacher was the 
town of Fryeburg, Maine, then a part of Massa- 
chusetts, — a town lying close to the New Hamp- 
shire border, on the Saco river. 

The following is the record of his appointment 
as schoolmaster : — 



EAKLY YEARS. 25 

Fkyeburg, April 20, 1802. 

At a meeting of the Trustees of Fryeburg Academy, 
the following report was made by the committee : Your 
committee, chosen to supply the Academy with a preceptor, 
to teach in the Academy, beg leave to report that we en- 
gaged Mr. Daniel Webster, from the first of January last 
passed, at the price of $350 per year, and in that proportion 
for a part of the year. 

David Page, ) ^ 



3E, ) 
NA, i 



JuDAH Dana 

In the following September this vote was re- 
corded : — 

Sept. 1, 1802. 

Voted^ That the Secretary return the thanks of this 
Board to Mr. Daniel Webster, for his faithful services while 
preceptor of Fryeburg Academy. 

William Fessenden, Secretary. 

Many were the stories which Mr. Webster used 
to tell of his career as a teacher. He added to his 
duties in this calling that of recording deeds, — 
an employment he secured from the circumstance 
of his boarding in the family of the register of 
deeds of Oxford County. By this means he added 
not a little to his scant income as preceptor. 

In a letter to a classmate, written in 1802, Mr. 
Webster relates the following droll incident : — 

" On my way to Fryeburg I fell in with an 
acquaintance, journeying to the same place. He 
was mounted on the ugliest horse I ever saw or 
heard of, except Sancho Panza's pacer.^ As I had 
two horses with me, I proposed to him to ride one 

1 This is, no doubt, a slip of the pen. Mr. Webster probably meant 
Don Quixote's pacer. 



26 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

of them, and tie his bag fast to his Bucephalus. 
He did so, and turned his horse forward, where 
her appearance, indescribable gait, and frequent 
stumblings afforded us constant amusement. At 
length, we approached the Saco river, — a very 
wide, deep, and rapid stream, — when this satire 
on the animal creation, as if to revenge herself on 
us for our sarcasms, plunged into the river, which 
was then very high, and was wafted down the 
current like a bag of oats. I could scarcely sit on 
my horse for laughter (I am apt to laugh at the 
vexations of my friends). The fellow, who was of 
my own age and my mate, half choked the current 
with oaths as big as lobsters ; and old Rosinante 
was all the while much at her ease. She floated 
up among the willows, far below on the opposite 
bank." 

Not long before his death, Mr. Webster betrayed 
the minuteness of his recollection of his first visit 
to Fryeburg, in a conversation with Mr. Robert 
Bradley. " At that time," he said, " I was a 
youth, not quite twenty years of age, with a 
slender frame, weighing less than one hundred 
and twenty pounds. On deciding to go, my father 
gave me rather an ordinary horse ; and, after 
making the journey from SaUsbury on his back, I 
was to dispose of him to the best of my judgment, 
for my own benefit. Immediately on my arrival, 
I called upon you, stating that I would sell the 
horse for forty dollars, and requesting your aid in 
the sale. You replied that he was worth more, 
and gave me an obligation for a larger sum ; and 



EARLY YEARS 27 

hi a few days succeeded in making a sale for me at 
an advanced price. I well remember that the pur- 
chaser lived about three miles from the village, 
and that his name was James Walker." 

On beino; told that Mr. Walker was still livino;, 
Mr. Webster added with great heartiness, — 
" Please to give him my best regards." 
What with his school-teaching, his law-readmg 
at chance intervals, and his deed-copying, which 
he did in the evenings, his hands were quite full 
at Fryeburg. A portion of two volumes, filled 
with deeds of his copying, are still extant there 
The academy in which he taught was a small, 
one-story building. A few years after his connec- 
tion with it, this building was taken down, and a 
new one erected on another site. The ground on 
which the old academy stood was purchased by Mr. 
Webster's early friend, Samuel A. Bradley, and con- 
secrated to the statesman's memory. No plough- 
share has been allowed to enter the enclosure. 
While at Fryeburg, Mr. Webster delivered a Fourth 
of July oration, which received warm praise from 
his political friends, and was acknowledged by the 
following vote of the academy trustees : — 

Voted^ That the thanks of the Board be presented to 
Preceptor Webster, for his services this day ; and that he 
would accept five dollars as a small acknowledgment of their 
sense ot his services tl.is day performed. 

William Fessenden, Secretary. 

The five dollars weio no doubt welcome, and far 
from being disdained ; for at that time every dollar 



28 RElVrLNISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

counted with the two ambitious and strug-g-lins 
brothers. 

Shortly afterwards he wrote to his brother the 
following parody of an old song : — 

" Fol de rol, dol di dol, dol di dol; 
I'll never make money my idol, 
For away our dollars will fly all. 
With my friend and my pitcher, 
I'm twenty times richer 
Than if I made money my idol. 
Fol de rol, dol di dol, dol di dol." 

The trustees of the academy, as well as the 
people of Fryeburg, became deeply impressed 
by Daniel Webster's genius and abilities during 
his residence there. The Rev. N. Porter, D.D., 
one of the trustees, predicted that he would be- 
come the first man in the country. Others de- 
clared their opinion that, if the people could 
appreciate the man, he would be governor of 
New Hampshire within five years ; and one shrewd 
villager affirmed that to be governor would be 
small business for him. As a teacher he was 
greatly beloved. The friendships which he formed 
at that period of his life were cherished with warm 
affection till his death. In conversation he often 
reverted to pleasing recollections, and indulged in 
refreshing remembrance, of the past. 

To one of these early friends he wrote, not long 
before he died, closing his letter in these terms : 

" I am happy to hear of your establishment and 
the growth of your fame. You have a little world 
around you ; fill it with good deeds, and you will 
fill it with your own glory." 



EARLY YEARS. 29 

To another of these early companions he sent 
an engraving of himself as " a token of early and 
long-continued friendship." After Fryeburg Acad- 
emy was burned, the trustees proceeded to raise 
funds to erect a new building. Mr. Webster en- 
gaged in the enterprise with energy and cordial 
good will, and promised to forward the work with 
all his power. As late as September, 1851, he ex- 
pressed a purpose of being present at the dedi- 
cation of the building and delivering the opening 
address ; but was prevented from fulfilling his 
friendly intent. 



CHAPTER 11. 

AS A LAW STUDENT. 

Mr. Webster began to study law in August, 
1801, immediately after his graduation, in the 
office of Thomas W. Thompson, a friend of his 
father, at Salisbury. His studies were inter- 
rupted, though not discontinued, by his teaching 
at Fryeburg ; and, after the close of his service as 
a teacher, he returned to Mr. Thompson's office, 
where he remained about two years. In July, 
1804, he went to Boston to pursue his studies in 
the office of the celebrated Christopher Gore, who 
had already occupied high posts of honor at home 
and abroad, and who was afterwards Governor of 
Massachusetts. He remained in Boston until the 
spring of 1805 ; and, during this period, he at one 
time took charge of his brother Ezekiel's school, 
and thus became the preceptor of the boy Edward 
Everett. 

Mr. Webster was admitted to the bar in Boston, 
in March, 1805, and soon after established himself 
and put out his sign at Boscawen, the town next to 
Sahsbury, that he might be near at hand to assist his 
father. In the autumn of 1807, — his father hav- 
ing now died, — he removed to Portsmouth, where 



AS A LAW STUDENT. 31 

he resided until 1816, when he took up his perma- 
nent residence in Boston. 

He evidently exercised sound judgment in 
choosing the law as a profession, as his after ca- 
reer abundantly proved. Sometimes, however, his 
fine literary taste was shocked by the rude bald 
ness and dry technicalities of legal studies, and his 
well-trained moral sense was still more shocked by 
what Jeremiah Smith used to call " the practices " 
of the attorneys of the day. 

He once complained of the course of study laid 
down in his time for young students at law. The 
books first put into their hands, he said, were dry, 
technical, repulsive, and to a great extent unin- 
telligible to the beginner. This, together with the 
style of practice then in vogue in country offices, 
tended to create in his mind a disrelish for his 
chosen profession. More liberal study and better 
society, however, gave him more enlarged views of 
jurisprudence. 

The following letter from the Hon. Judah Dana, 
of Fryeburg, shows how a portion of his leisure 
hours were employed, when a teacher ; and how, 
like other young men oppressed by the res angusttx 
domi, he strove " to gain time " in his professional 
studies : — 

Rochester, Jan. 18, 1805. 

Dear Sir, — Your favor of December 29 arrived in rny 
absence, and the necessity of my attending court in this 
town immediately after the receipt of it, prevented me from 
answering it till this time ; and now I am in the bustle of the 
business of the court. T cannot ascertain the precise time of 



o 



2 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 



your residence at Fryeburg as preceptor of the academy, but 
think you came in November or December of 1801, and 
returned the September following, making a term of eight 
months. On your arrival, you informed rae that, as you 
had commenced, you intended to pursue, the study of the 
law, and wished the use of my library during said term. 
You had access to the same ; and I presume that you de- 
voted the principal part of your leisure hours, while you were 
at P'ryeburg, to the study of the law. If a certificate of tho 
above import will be of any benefit to you, I can truly and 
cheerfully make it. I am, dear sir, in much confusion, and 
with much esteem, 

Your sincere friend, 

JuDAH Dana. 

Mr. Webster, from the time he began to study 
law, had a strong desire to pursue his studies in 
the office of Christopher Gore, at Boston. This 
had been a sort of youthful dream with him. Gore 
was a great lawyer and a great man. In 1804, 
Mr. Webster went to Boston to visit a classmate 
named Bradley, who was better off than himself in 
this world's goods, and was then studying with 
Judge Heard. They had been chums in college ; 
and when Mr. Webster went to Fryeburg, Bradley 
began his studies in Boston. Mr. Webster found 
his friend, saw the Boston sights, and spoke of his 
desire to spend his last year of study in Mr. Gore's 
office. 

"I have seen Mr. Gore," said Bradley, "and 
will take you into his office and introduce you to 
him." 

This was rather a bold venture, as Bradley knew 
the famous lawyer scarcely more than did Webster 
himself. 



AS A LAW STUDENT. 33 

Mr. Webster, in relating the incident to me, 
said : — 

" I agreed to go with Bradley, and we started 
off ; but, as we were going up the stairs, it oc- 
curred to me that such an introduction would be 
rather a drawback. I consoled myself, however, 
by thinking that Mr. Gore might not be in, and 
that that would end it all. We knocked and en- 
tered. He was in, and was sitting at his desk, 
with his black-bowed spectacles on his nose, look- 
ing rather formidable. 

" ' Good-morning, Mr. Gore,' said Bradley. ' My 
classmate, Mr. Webster, who has been studying 
with Senator Thompson, is very anxious to enter 
his name in your office, to finish his studies.' 

" I stood there, anxious enough ; and, from Mr. 
Gore's forbidding look, feared that he was making 
up his mind to give me a point-blank refusal. I 
did not show any forwardness, but was rather diffi- 
dent, and finally said : ' My friend and classmate 
has been kind enough to introduce me to you ; 
but I did not think of obtruding myself here with- 
out letters from sources of credit. And, although 
I have a strong wish to enter your office, I had no 
thought of intruding at this time.' 

" I saw his features relax a little, as he said : 
' My office is hardly the best place for you ; my 
practice is very limited, consisting only of chamber 
practice : you would get more knowledge by study- 
ing with gentlemen having a larger commercial 
business. I have a library, and that is all.' 

I know that very well,' 1 replied ; 'bat I 



a i 



34 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

should feel proud to have studied my profession 
in your office.' 

'•Bradley added: 'I think, sir, you will never 
have cause to regret taking my friend. I feel sure 
that his future will amply justify the venture ; and 
if you will allow me, I will give you a copy of a 
eulogy delivered by him on a classmate, when he 
was fifteen years old, which was published by his 
class.' 

" I felt mortified at this, but said nothing. Mr. 
Gore looked at the closing part of the eulogy, and 
then at me. He asked me some questions about 
my father and mother and Senator Thompson, all 
of which I modestly answered ; and the result was 
that Mr. Gore spoke kind words, and asked me to 
sit down. My friend had already disappeared ! 
Mr. Gore said what I had suggested was very 
reasonable, and required little apology; he did not 
mean to fill his office with clerks, but was willing 
to receive one or two, and would consider what I 
had said. He talked to me pleasantly for a quarter 
of an hour ; and, when I arose to depart, he said : 
' My young friend, you look as though you might 
be trusted. You say you came to study, and not 
to waste time. I will take you at your word. 
You may as well hang up your hat at once. Go 
into the other room ; take your book, and sit down 
to reading it, and write at your convenience to 
New Hampshire for your letters.' 

" From that time till the close of Governor Gore's 
life I never had a warmer friend than he. Pie intro- 
duced me to the bar, and followed me with good 



AS A LAW STUDENT. 35 

wishes and kindness down to the period of his 
death." 

At the time of his beginning practice, Mr. Web- 
ster's father was a county judge. The New Hamp- 
shire courts were then composed of a bench of 
regular judges and of the sitting magistrates, or 
side judges, one for each county. Ebenezer Web- 
ster was one of these side judges. He was no law- 
yer, but sat somewhat in the capacity of a juror, 
personally knowing the circumstances of many of 
the cases, and acting as an adviser. The cele- 
brated Jeremiah Smith was one of the judges, and 
Judo:e Farrar the other. Both were friends of the 
elder Webster. They knew that he had fought for 
his country, was everywhere respected, and that he 
had made great sacrifices to give his sons a liberal 
education. 

It happened that, just as Daniel was completing 
his studies in Mr. Gore's office, the clerkship of the 
county court of Merrimac became vacant by the 
death of the incumbent. 

The clerk was paid by fees ; and, as there was a 
great deal of Htigation in New Hampshire, it did 
not require a large tariff of fees to give the clerk 
a generous income. It is a fact, that the most 
lucrative offices in New Hampshire at that time 
were the clerks of courts. They received moni 
pay than the judges or the governor or any sala- 
ried officer. A clerkship was worth from $1,500 
to $2,000 a year, which would be equivalent to 
nearly $10,000 now. 

When this office became vacant, lawyers of es- 



36 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

tablished reputation asked for it. No member oi 
the bar could earn so much, or really received so 
much, as the clerks in the larger counties, where 
there was a good deal of litigation. There was 
a lively competition for the Merrimac office, and 
Ebenezer Webster promptly applied to Judge Smith 
and Judge Farrar for this place for Daniel. 

They thought the matter over; and, although 
strong political influences were brought to bear for 
other men, they finally announced to the father 
that they had decided to give the appointment to 
Daniel. It was not possible for them to have 
done him a greater favor. It was a great act of 
friendship on the part of the judges. They did 
it as a sincere mark of friendship for the elder 
Webster. 

" I felt," said Daniel, " that in the fortunes of 
our family the turning-point had arrived. Before, 
it had been hard for them to get money ; here was 
an office that would bring $2000 a year, of which 
$1500 could be laid by, — a fortune, every thing 
that one could wish for." 

Mr. Webster had just written home to say that 
he had completed his studies and was about to be 
admitted to the bar, when he received a letter from 
his father, announcing that he had procured for 
him the clerkship of Merrimac County, and urging 
him to make no delay in accepting the office with 
proper acknowledgments, either in person or by 
letter. He received the letter at night, and saw 
at once that it was a singular piece of good 
fortune to get this office. He began to feel rich ; 



AS A LAW STUDENT. 37 



now he should not want for money, and all his 
family could share in his prosperity. 

With a feeling of thankfulness and gratitude, he 
at the same time was greatly excited, and could 
scarcely sleep. He was eager to tell his good for- 
tune to Mr. Gore. He went early to the office, and 
it seemed as if the hours never would pass for the 
time when Mr. Gore should arrive. As soon as he 
came in, and had taken off his hat, Daniel followed 
him into his private office, and his face was lighted 
up with joy as he approached his patron. 

" You are in good plight this morning," said Mr. 
Gore ; " you have had good news ? " 

" Yes, ^ nave ; and I have come to receive your 
^congratulations, for I know they will be hearty, — 
you have been so kind to me." 

" I then," Mr. Webster went on to tell me, 
" handed to him my father's letter ; and I soon 
noticed that, instead of expressing delight, he 
seemed a little moody. He did not say he was 
glad of it ; he did not say he was pleased ; he did 
not congratulate me. I stood a while, and then 
sat down. Finally, he said : — 

" ' You are a little excited about this office now j 
go into the other room, and by-and-by I will have 
a little talk with you about it.' 

" I could not understand what he meant, but went 
to my desk. After the lapse of an hour he called 
me into his office again, and said : — 

" ' I know perfectly well how you feel about this 
office. In your situation, having had a pretty hard 
struggle to get an education, and appreciating 



oS REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

keenly the sacrifices a fond parent has made to aid 
you, it is not strange that you are eager to repay 
his kindness. But I want to say to you that you 
have got up the hill ; your education is secure, and 
you are now just ready to start in your profession. 
Although this office of clerk of the court is in the 
line of the law, still it is not a place where there 
is much chance for the display of talent. A man 
merely rusts out in it, as he would in driving a 
stage. There is nothing in it. To come to the 
point, I do not want you to take that office.' 

" If he had put a pistol to my head," said Mr. 
Webster, " and had demanded my life, I should 
not have been more astonished. 

" ' Do you know the income of the office ? ' 
I asked. 

" * Yes, I know all about it. So far as mere 
money considerations are concerned, it would be 
worth while to take it ; but I have a notion that 
your mission is to make opinions for other men to 
record, and not to be the clerk to record the opin- 
ions of courts. You are destined for higher dis- 
tinctions than to be clerk of a court, if I am not 
mistaken.' 

" ' But money is my chief ambition, and this 
will bring it to me.' 

" ' I know it ; but I feel so strongly on this point, 
that I am going to persuade you to decline that 
place, and to trust to Providence for something 
better. I know your history and your father's 
wishes and feelings ; and 1 give this advice, know- 
ing all these things. I don't want you to take the 



AS A LAW STUDENT. 39 

office. You will have a struggle with your father 
over it, and it will be hard for him to comprehend 
your refusal. But before you leave me I am go- 
ing to extort a promise from you to decline it.' 

" It is needless to repeat the arguments that he 
used. Suffice it to say that, against my own judg- 
ment, I promised that I would not take the clerk- 
ship. He said kind, complimentary, and even 
flattering things of me, and still I felt that I was 
throwing away a great present good. I had strong 
confidence in Mr. Gore's judgment, and I do not 
suppose anybody else could have persuaded me 
to make such a promise. He said that if I re- 
fused the office, and in five or six years I did not 
admit that his advice was good, he would make up 
to me the difference. I promised. It was a leap 
in the dark. It was faith. 

" The next day I started — it being a cold wm- 
ter's day — to visit my father and break to him 
my decision. That was the hardest of all ; but 
my mind was made up, and Mr. Gore had inspired 
me with a good deal of confidence in myself. He 
made me feel that there was something in me, and 
I started for New Hampshire with that feeling. I 
reached Concord in the afternoon of the third day, 
and there hired a man to carry me fourteen miles 
in a pung to my father's, where I arrived in the 
early evening. 

" As I approached the door, jumped out of the 
sleigh, and mounted the stoop or portico, I looked 
through the window. I saw a blazing wood fire, 
and a nice, clean, painted hearth ; and there was ray 



40 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

father, — a venerable man, — seated in his chair, 
with his white locks streaming down, looking into 
the fire. I stood and watched him, with fihal 
reverence. I thought to myself, how happy he 
is now, contemplating all the good that is to come ; 
and I am going in to mar and dash it all away ! 
I went in : he never greeted me more warmly. 
* How glad I am to see you ! ' he exclaimed, as he 
kissed me. 

"My mother came in, and it was a jubilee for 
five minutes. At last supper was brought in, and 
I was making up my mind how to break this thing 
to my father. I almost regretted the rash prom- 
ise I had made to Mr. Gore. I wished a hundred 
times that I could retract it. Then ao-ain. there 
was something that prompted me to think that 
1 could do better than to record other men's 
opinions. 

" My father broached the subject, by saying, 
' I think you had better ride over to Judge Smith's 
in the morning, and be qualified at once.' 

" ' I shall write to Judge Smith and Judge Far- 
rar to-morrow,' I replied ; ' thank them for their 
favor as warmly as I know how, and for their 
kindness and friendship for you which has procured 
me this appointment. And, while I render these 
thanks, I am going to decline the office.' 

" My father stood and looked at me in amaze- 
ment. 

" '■ Decline ! Are you crazy ? You are joking, 
— you are trifling ! ' 

No, sir 3 I am serious. Mr. Gore ' — 



a i 



AS A LAW STUDENT. 41 

"^None of your Mr. Gores to me ! Don't you 
talk about Mr. Gore ! ' 

"And," said Mr. Webster, "I can see now that 
look of mingled anger, incredulity, and pity that 
he wore, as he said : — 

" ' Mr. Gore ! — telling a young fool to refuse a 
good office ! — a silly boy that knows nothing about 
life . — filling his head with some foolish fancies 
about what he is going to do, when this opportu- 
nity offers to give him all a reasonable man re- 
quires ! None of your Mr. Gores to me ! — a man 
who is driving his coach with four horses, with his 
liveried servants, who knows nothing about the 
struggles of life ! — filling a young fool's head with 
nonsense ! You are crazy ! You vex me ! You 
never annoyed me so much in your life before ! ' 

" He began to scold, for the first time in his life, 
and I thought it w\as time for me to speak. 

" ' My father, I wish to say to you that no man 
living, no son, appreciates more than I do the trials 
you have gone through for me ; and no one could 
be more grateful than I. I appreciate all you have 
done for my welfare, and the sacrifices you and my 
mother have made. But still, I am now of age, 
and am a man for myself. My education has cost 
you many sacrifices, and ought to bring you some- 
thing in return. You may need money ; but that 
is not every thing that we live for. You yourself 
would be glad to see your son rise to eminence, 
and be a man among his fellows, — which no man 
ever was as a clerk of a court. I am more than 
half inclined to think Mr. Gore's advice is good. 






42 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

Tt may seem otherwise just now; but I feel a 
prompting within me that tells me there is some- 
thing better for me than to be a clerk of courts. 
My mind is made up.' 

' Are you fully resolved ? ' said my father. 
' Yes, sir ; I am.' 

" He did not say another word for a long time, 
— perhaps half an hour. Then he went on : — 

" ' Daniel, in the long struggle with poverty and 
adverse fortune that your mother and I have made 
to give you and Ezekiel an education, we have 
often talked over these sacrifices, and the prospects 
of our children. Your mother has often said to 
me that she had no fear about Ezekiel ; that he had 
fixed and steady habits, and an indomitable energy. 
She had no doubt of his success in life. But as 
for Daniel, — well, she didn't know about him : 
he would be either something or nothing. I think 
your mother was a prophetess, and that the prob- 
lem is solved to-night. You have fulfilled her 
prophecy, — you have come to nothing.' 

" That was the last time he ever mentioned the 
clerkship to me. 

" I wrote a letter to the judges, declining the 
office, and returned to Mr. Gore and told him 
what I had done. I then went up to Boscawen, 
and opened a law-office in a red store, with stairs 
upon the outside, for which I paid a rent of about 
$15 a year. I lived at home, and walked to and 
from the office at morning and night. I then re- 
solved never to leave home during the life of my 
father, who was growing: old, no matter what 



AS A LAW STUDENT. 43 

might betide. I stayed by him two years. 1 
did not, in those two years, make money enough 
to pay the rent of the office ; but I stayed there 
until my father died. I closed his eyes in death, 
and received his parting blessing ; and then I 
started for Portsmouth, and began my career of 
life and practice there." 

Mr. Webster added, that he argued one case 
before his father as judge ; and that the old 
man considered it " a creditable performance ; one 
about which there was nothing to regret." He 
thought that his father was decidedly gratified 
by it. 



CHAPTER m. 

AT THE BAR. 

Many anecdotes of Mr. Webster's early career 
at the bar survive, and a few of them may prop- 
erly find a place in these pages. Some that are 
given have been told before, having had the tran- 
sient circulation of a newspaper paragraph, and 
some I had from Mr. Webster himself. 

Joel Parker, formerly chief justice of the New 
Hampshire Court of Common Pleas, and later pro- 
fessor of law in Harvard College, who had many 
opportunities of judging of Mr. Webster's capabili- 
ties as an advocate, has left his impression of him 
on record, as follows : — 

" There is evidence of his early professional 
ability, as manifested at the September term of 
1806, when his argument made such an impression 
upon a friend of mine, — then a lad of some ten 
or twelve years, — that, after a lapse of nearly 
half a century, he distinctly remembers the high 
encomiums passed upon it. He recollects, he 
writes, with perfect distinctness the sensation 
which the speech produced upon the multitude. 
The court-house was thronged, and all were loud 
in his praise. As soon as the adjournment took 



AT THE BAR 45 

place, the lawyers dropped into ray informant's 
father's office, and there the whole of Webster's 
bearing was eagerly discussed. It was agreed on 
all hands that he had made an extraordinary effort. 
One of the lawyers accounted for it by saying, 
^ Ah ! Webster has been studying in Boston, and 
has got a knack of talking ; but let him take it 
rough and tumble awhile here in the bush, and we 
shall see whether he will do much better than other 
folks.' Such testimony as this is valuable. It 
shows that Webster's future greatness was reflected 
upon his first professional efforts. His earliest argu- 
ments at the bar were creditable, even honorable, 
to his fame in the maturity of his powers. Such 
men as Judge Jeremiah Smith predicted his future 
eminence. He never spoke before a jury without 
exciting admiration and eliciting praise." 

In his " Life of Judge Smith," Mr. Morison 
speaks as follows of Mr. Webster's first appearance 
at the Superior Court in New Hampshire : — 

"At the court holden in Hillsborough County 
in 1807, a young man, who had been admitted as 
an attorney but not as a counsellor, appeared with 
a cause of no great pecuniary importance, but of 
some interest and some intricacy. Though not 
then of such advanced standing at the bar as to be 
entitled to address the jury, he was yet allowed to 
examine the witnesses, and briefly state his case 
both upon the law and facts. Having done this, he 
handed his brief to Mr. Wilson, the senior counsel, 
for the full argument of the matter. But the chief 
justice had noticed him ; and, on leaving the court- 



46 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

house, said to a member of the bar that he had 
never before met such a young man as that. It 
was Daniel Webster, and this was his first action 
before the court." 

Israel W. Kelley, Esq., of Concord, the brother- 
indaw of Mr. Webster, has left a more minute 
account of the same trial. He was present in the 
court, and acting as sheriff. He said that Mr. 
Webster's reputation as an able advocate was es- 
tablished at the bar of New Hampshire, by his 
first argument in the Superior Court at Hopkin- 
ton, Hillsborough County. The case was tried 
before Judge Smith, in May, 1807. Mr. Webster 
not having practised in the Court of Common Pleas 
two years, as the law then required, could not 
legally argue a case in the Superior Court. By 
special permission, however, he took charge of this 
suit. The action was brought by his client for 
trespass, against the owner of a pasture adjoining 
his own. The wall between the enclosures had 
been thrown down, and the plaintiff's horse had 
evidently been dragged through the breach from 
the defendant's pasture after his leg had been 
broken, which prevented his being driven. Messrs. 
Atherton and Dana, men of eminent legal ability, 
were counsel for the defendant. Sheriff Kelley, 
who was then crier of the court, thus describes the 
scene : — 

" When Mr. Webster began to speak, his voice 
was low, his head was sunk upon his breast, his eyes 
were fixed upon the floor, and he moved his feet 
incessantly, backward and forward, as if trying to 



AT THE BA1{. 47 

secure a firmer position. His voice soon increased 
in power and volume, till it filled the whole house. 
His attitude became erect, his eye dilated, and his 
whole coiQitenance was radiant with emotion. 
The attention of all present was at once arrested. 
Every eye in the crowded court-room was fixed on 
the speaker, but my own ; for I was obliged to 
watch the door, that I might prevent confusion 
by the throng of spectators that were constantly 
crowding into the hall." 

After Mr. Webster opened an office in Boscawen, 
his first writs were served by Sheriff Kelley upon 
Messrs. Purdy and Currier, traders in Boscawen. 
While the j^oung attorney and the sheriff were at 
dinner, the former proprietors, with a reckless 
accomplice, expelled the keeper left in possession 
by the officer of the law, and by force recovered 
possession of the shop. Returning to the scene of 
action, the sheriff began a parley with the intrud- 
ers, and tried to convince them of the magnitude 
of their offence. But Mr. Webster resolved to 
vindicate practically the majesty of the law ; and 
accordingly ran for an axe, to batter down the 
door. Before his return the door was unbarred ; 
and the sheriff having recovered possession of the 
property, levied, without judge or jury, a fine of 
thirty dollars upon the owners for forcibly exclud- 
ing him. 

An able and forcible writer, N. P. Rogers, of 
Plymouth, N. H., who often assumed a rough, 
quaint style, was well acquainted Math the Web- 
sters, and was in early life their warm and devoted 



48 EEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

friend. The following letter, which he contributed 
to the " New York Tribune," relates to Daniel 
Webster's early appearance at the bar ; and i.s 
w^orth inserting, both as giving a vivid picture 
of that period of the great statesman's life, and 
as an amusing literary curiosity. 

" There 's a town a little south of me, about thh-ty-five 
miles off, in phiin sight, where they 've held courts for the 
county. It 's the county of Grafton. They 've held courts 
there these seventy years. Webster used to come to court 
there when he was a young lawyer. They say he went to 
his first court there. I don't know how that is, but he went 
there when he was almost a boy. I could see him plainly 
from here. He was singular in his look. Him and his 
brother ' Zeke ' used to come to court together after a year 
or two. Daniel came first, though 'Zeke' was the eldest. 
I can see them now, driving into that little village in their 
bellows-top chaise, — top thrown back, — driving like Jehu, 
the chaise bending under them like a close-top in a high 
wind. I had heard tell of Diomede and Ulysses, — a couple 
of old Greeks that used to ride in some such lookins; cars as 
they did, though I believe the Greeks don't ride together. 
But Daniel and 'Zekiel Webster made me think of them two 
Greeks. Daniel used to drive very fast. They 'd come in as 
if they had started long before day ; and it was a sight, in a 
small place, to see them two ride in together. I could have 
told either of them thirty miles among a thousand men. 

" The court-house was a little one-story building that stood 
on a hill. Daniel made his first speech, they tell me, in that 
house, and tried his first case there. It was a small case, and 
the only one he had. He wanted to get it put by. The lawyer 
on the other side was opposed to it, and Daniel got up and 
made a speech to the court that made the little old house 
ring again. They all said — lawyers and judges and people 
— that they never heard such a speech, or any thing like it. 
They said he talked like a different creature from any of the 
rest of them, great or small, — and tiieie were men there 



AT THE BAR. 49 

that were not nmall. There was a man tned for his life in 
that court, or one soon after, and the judges chose Webster 
to plead for him ; and, from what I can learn, he never 
has spoken better since than he did there when he first be- 
gan. He was a black, raven-haired fellow, with an eye as 
black as death, and as heavy as a lion's, — and no lion in 
Africa ever had a voice like him ; and his look was like a 
lion's, — that same heavy look, not sleejjy, but as if he didn't 
care about any thing that was going on about him or any 
thing anywhere else. He didn't look as if he was thinking 
about any thing ; but as if he loould think like a hurricane 
if he once got waked up to it. They say the lion looks so 
when he is quiet. It wasn't an empty look, this of Web- 
ster's ; but one that didn't seem to see any thing going on 
worth his while. 

" 'Zekiel didn't use to speak in the courts for a great 
many years. The talk was that he couldn't say any thing. 
They said he 'was a better judge of law than Daniel, but 
couldn't speak.' He did not need to speak much, for he gen- 
erally put his cases into such a shape that he got them without 
coming to trial. Nobody ever knew how or why, but Zeke 
Webster's cases hardly ever came to trial. After some years 
he got to helping try other lawyer's cases ; and then he spoke, 
and as well as a man could speak, — more sensible, they 
said, than Daniel himself. It was not till after Daniel left 
the State ; and some thought he didn't speak before, because 
Daniel was present. 

" There was a lawyer by the name of Parker Noyes, that 
used to go to court the same time with the Websters, — a 
better lawyer, it was said, than either of them ; but he hadn't 
Daniel's power of talk, — a nicely read lawyer and fatal 
pleader. Webster used to dread to meet him, he said. He 
knew the books and the cases, and was an authority about 
the court-house. Webster would sometimes be engaged to 
argue a case just as it was coming to trial. That would set 
him to thinking. It wouldn't wrinkle his forehead, but 
made him restless. He would shift his feet about, and run 
his hand up over his forehead, through his Indian-black hair, 
and lift his upper lip and show his teeth, which were aa 

4 



50 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

white as a hound's. He would got up, and go across the 
bar and sit down by Parker Noyes, and ask him where such 
a law was decided, and the names of the cases, — not what 
the law was, but where it was in the books. What it was he 
decided for himself. Noyes would tell him where it was, 
and then he would go back to his seat ; and when the case 
would come up for trial, he would up and pour out the law 
and cite his authorities, as if he had spent montlis in poring 
upon it, — his own mind arriving at the decisions of the 
sages of the law without having seen the books, and on the 
spur of the moment; but, for the sake of the judge, he 
would ask Parker Noyes to tell him where the authorities 
had written it down. 

" Parker Noyes was a great advocate himself. You proba- 
bly never heard of him in your State of New York. Pie was 
a man that didn't wish ever to be heard of, or talked about, 
anywhere. A man of no vanity whatever. He wasn't an 
orator ; but his talk was very poweiful both to the jury and 
the judges. He got such credit for candor and honesty 
among the people, that the jury put as much confidence in 
what he said as if he had been a witness or a judge. He spoke 
to them more like a judge than an advocate ; and he never 
was excited or disturbed. 'Zekiel Webster, who was a dif- 
ferent man, seeing Noyes get up once in his calm way to 
address the jury in an important case, whispered to a lawyer 
sitting by him, ' See how undisturbed Noyes is ; cantharides 
would not excite him ! ' He was one of the gi-eat New 
Hampshire lawyers. Richard Fletcher lived in the same 
town with him, before he left the State, and owed much 
of his legal sharpness, no doubt, to the training he got by 
the side of such an antagonist. Parker Noyes, I believa 
did not go to Massachusetts, — 'the way of all' the New 
Hampshire great (besides those that went elsewhere, Mr. 
Tribune)." 

The reason of Mr. Webster's early removal from 
Boscaweu to Portsmouth, according to a gentleman 
who knew the facts, was that, " having an engage- 
ment to argue a cause in Rocldngham County, he 



I 



AT THE BAR. 51 

was, at the close of the argument, forthwith re- 
tained in nearly all the remaining cases standing 
at that time upon the docket. Soon after his 
removal, his practice extended to all the counties 
in the State." 

His practice, indeed, increased so rapidly that 
he could not long say, as he did in a letter writ- 
ten in the fall of 1807 : " Thursday I tarried 
in Concord ; Friday I came to this place [Ports- 
mouth] ; Saturday I 14 ot my office swept and my 
books put up, and this week I have been quite 
at leisure." 

Before long he found himself contending wdth 
the first lawyers of the State. He said that " they 
compelled him to study ; and, when once enlisted 
in this warfare, he was never allowed to doff his 
harness or sheathe his sword." His fees were, how- 
ever, moderate. He once said : " I went the cir- 
cuit of all the courts in New Hampshire, and 
engaged in every case in which I would consent 
to take a part. After such a term I once computed 
all my earnings, and found they only amounted to 
five hundred dollars." 

The following story of Mr. Webster's meeting 
with that rough and ready veteran and patriot, 
General John Stark, has been told before ; but I 
now give it as Mr. Webster himself related it to 
me. 

It was while he was living at Portsmouth, that 
he was once obliged to go to Concord to attend 
court. The roads being bad, he adopted the 
familiar custom of the day, and went on horse- 



52 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

back, carrying his papers in the saddle-bags. As 
he reached Hooksett, now Manchester, it began 
to rain. It was in the afternoon; and, finding 
a quiet, comfortable-looking hotel, he thought he 
would stop and spend the night, and ride up to 
Concord early the next morning. So he put up 
his horse, and went into the bar-room, where he 
found a half-dozen neighbors seated around the 
fire, drinking flip. Prominent among them was 
old General Stark. His house was just opposite, 
on the other side of the river ; and everybody in 
that neighborhood knew him. 

"When I went in," said Mr. Webster, "there 
was a pause in the conversation, as there was likely 
to be on the entrance of a stranger. I sat down by 
the fire, and there was a dead silence for some 
time. I observed that old Stark was getting into 
a doze, and did not seem to notice any thing. 
Pretty soon the conversation started up again, 
and the restraint imposed by the advent of a 
stranger wore away. 

" ^ What do you think such a man is worth ? ' 
said one. 

" ^ I guess he's worth five hundred dollars.' 

" * I don't believe he is.' 

" Old Stark roused himself, and remarked : — 

" ' Well, I don't know what he is worth ; but I 
know what / am worth. They say a thing is 
worth what it will fetch. If that's so, I'm w^orth 
just forty pounds, for I once fetched that. In the 
French AVar I was taken by the Indians, and they 
took forty pounds as my ransom.' 



AT THE BAR. 53 

•' This raised a roar of laughter ; and now Gen- 
eral Stark looked around, and for the first time 
noticed the stranger. 

" ' Who are you ? ' said he. 

" I thought that was rather a rude way of ac- 
costing a person; but of course any thing was 
permitted to the rough old hero of Bennington. 

" ' Who are you, I say ? ' 

" ^ My name ? ' 

'^ '■ Yes, your name. What's your name ? 

" ' My name is Webster.' 

" * Where are you from ? ' 

" ' From Portsmouth.' 

" ' Your name is Webster, and you are fron 
Portsmouth. Where are you going ? ' 

" ' To Concord.' 

" ' To Concord ; well, where did you come from 
originally ? What Websters do you belong to ?' 

" ' I came from Salisbury.' 

" ' Oh ho ! from Salisbury. Are you one of the 
Salisbury Websters ? ' 

" ' Yes, sir.' 

" * Are you any way related to old Captaib Eb. ? 

" ' Slightly, sir ; he was my father.' 

" ' Are you a son of old Captain Eb. ? Let me 
see you [turning me round]. Why, I declare! 
Well, I am inchned to think you may be. In the 
war, we could not tell whether Captain Webster's 
face was a natural color or blackened by powder. 
You must be his son, for you are a cursed sight 
blacker than he was ! ' 

"At this, a great laugh arose at my expense, 



54 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

and the whole company were on good terms witli 
me at once." 

While Mr. Webster was living at Portsmouth, he 
had occasion one night to be out about the " small 
hours." It was an intensely cold, clear, moon- 
light night in December ; the ground was thickly 
spread with snow, and the streets were quite 
deserted. 

As he was proceeding homeward, he observed a 
woman at some distance in front of him ; and 
from the lateness of the hour, the inclemency of 
the weather, and her peculiar movements, his at- 
tention was attracted to her. 

She would trot on a little way, then stop and 
look back and listen, and then walk on again. 

Mr. Webster, keeping himself out of sight, atten- 
tively observed her movements. She was going 
the same way that he was ; and, on coming to the 
street that turned toward his own residence, she 
stopped again, looked cautiously around for a mo- 
ment, and then went down the street. Mr. Web- 
ster's house stood with its gable end toward the 
street ; from his front door-step to the sidewalk 
he had caused to be laid some loose boards over 
the snow. At his gate, the woman paused for a 
moment, looked around again, and quickly picked 
up one of the boards, put it under her arm, and 
made off. Mr. Webster continued carefully to 
follow. The poor woman hurried as fast as she 
could with her burden to a distant part of the 
town ; and, coming to a small and ruinous wooden 
tenement;, entered and closed the door. 



AT THE BAR. 55 

The next day she received, to her surprise it 
may be supposed, a cord of wood. 

It was during his residence in Portsmouth that 
Mr. Webster became the owner of a parcel of land 
in the vicinity of the White Mountains, with the 
buildings standing thereon, for the valuable con- 
sideration of his services as counsel in an important 
suit in one of the courts. The premises were 
known by the imposing name of " the farm." He 
left the tenant, who was living there at the time 
when he acquired the legal title to " the farm," in 
possession. After his removal to Boston, he heard 
nothing of his White Mountain estate for several 
years. One summer, as he journeyed north with 
his wife in quest of recreation, he resolved to turn 
aside from the travelled road, and ascertain the 
true condition of his property. He found a very 
miserable hut upon it, occupied by an aged wo- 
man as the only tenant of his farm. He asked for 
a glass of water, which she readily served in a tin 
dipper. He then began to make inquiries about 
her prosperity, and the present condition of things 
around her. She said that she did not own the 
farm, but that it belonged to a lawyer down in 
Boston by the name of Webster. 

" Does he often come to see you, my good wo- 
man ? " said Mr. Webster. 

" No," replied she, " he has never been near his 
laud since I lived here." 

" Well," said he, " what rent does he make you 
pay for the occupancy of his farm ? " 

" Rent ! " she exclaimed, " I don't pay him any 



56 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER 

rent. It is bad enough to live here without pay- 
ing any thing for it ; and if he don't fix up the 
house, I don't mean to stay here freezing to death 
much longer ! " 

" Well, madam," returned the kind-hearted pro- 
prietor, " it is a pretty hard case, I confess. If you 
will accept this bill [five doUars] towards your 
holding on for another year, I will speak to Mr. 
Webster when I next see him, and perhaps he will 
do something more for you." 

So he took final leave of his valuable farm and 
his interesting tenant. 

Judge Parker gave the following, as an opinion 
which Mr. Webster expressed to him in regard to 
the administration of the law in New Hampshire 
when he practised there. Mr. Webster said that 
he had practised law before old Justice Jackman 
at Boscawen, who received his commission from 
George II., and all the way up to the court of 
Chief Justice Marshall at Washington ; and " he 
had never found any place where the law was ad- 
ministered with so much precision and exactness 
as in the county of Rockingham." 

Mr. Webster's rapid rise in professional distinc- 
tion at Portsmouth soon brought him into close 
connection with the leading lawyers and judges of 
the State ; and, among these, perhaps the most 
eminent figures at that time were Jeremiah Smith 
and Jeremiah Mason. Of these two great lights. 
Judge Smith's biographer says that " both were 
profoundly learned, but Smith the more accom- 
plished scholar; both were profound thinkers, but 



¥\ 



■«i 



AT THE BAR. 57 

Mason's the more original mind. They were pow- 
erful combatants, less unequal than unlike. With 
perhaps equal industry in the preparation of causes, 
the one fortified his position with accumulated au- 
thorities, the other trusted more to his native 
strength and the force of reason." 

Of Judge Smith Mr. Webster always spoke with 
veneration. In a letter to the judge's widow re- 
questing an epitaph, he wrote : " For what I am 
in professional life I owe much to Judge Smith. 
I revere his character ; I shall cherish his memory 
as long as I live. Would that an impression of his 
virtues and talents, fresh and deep as that which 
exists in my own heart, could be made immortal in 
stone ! " He introduced Judge Smith to Chancel- 
lor Kent, and his letter bore the following testi- 
mony to his respect for the New Hampshire jurist: 
" There are few men in the world, I think, more 
to your taste. When I came to the bar, he was 
chief justice of the State. It was a day of the 
'gladsome light' of jurisprudence. His friends 
(and I was one of them) thought he must be made 
governor. For this office we persuaded him to 
leave the bench, and that same ' gladsome light ' 
cheered us no longer." 

Mr. Webster's association with Jeremiah Mason 
w^as yet more intimate, and his recollections of 
that great advocate were far more minute and 
interesting. Of Mr. Mason's legal abilities he had 
the highest opinion. Indeed, he did not hesitate 
to pronounce him the first lawyer of his age. 

These men, like Hannibal and Scipio of old 



58 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

mutually admired each other's greatness. Mr, 
Mason once said to a friend : " If there is any 
greater man than Webster in our country, it has 
not been my fortune to meet him or read of him." 
When Mr. Mason had grown old, and had virtually 
retired from business, Mr. Webster once invited 
him to take a tour with him into the country for 
recreation. Mr. Mason, knowing the desire of the 
people to see and hear Mr. Webster when he trav- 
elled, replied with characteristic bluntness : " No ! 
I should as soon go with a caravan." 

Mr. Webster's opinion of Mr. Mason is repeat- 
edly expressed in his letters. Writing to his 
brother from Washington on March 28, 1814, he 
says : " Mr. Mason is growing to be a great man. 
He ranks in the Senate, / think, next to King 
and Gore. He has made some very excellent 
speeches." 

Mr. Webster first met Jeremiah Mason on the 

occasion of a criminal trial. A certain Col. 

— a Democrat of note — had been put on trial 
on a charge of counterfeiting. The case against 
him was more than serious, for many acts of 
passing counterfeit money had been brought 
home to him. The Democrats, however, were 
very anxious that the colonel should be acquit- 
ted. Mason was secured as the prisoners coun- 
sel, and money raised to support the defence. On 
the very eve of the trial the Attorney-General, 
who was addicted to drinking, failed the prosecu- 
tion ; whereupon Mr. Webster was called upon 
to act in his place. Mason had heard of his 



AT THE BAR. 59 

promise, but remarked in liis plain way that " he 
had heard similar things of young men before," and 
did not disturb himself about his antagonist. He 
soon found out that he had no common adversary 
to deal with. Webster " came down upon him," 
as he said, " like a thunder-shower." The prisoner 
was, indeed, acquitted ; but this was, in Mr. Ma- 
son's own opinion, rather owing to the political 
leaning of the jury than to the superiority of the 
defence. 

" Mr. Mason," says Judge Smith's biographer, 
" was particularly struck with the high, open, and 
manly ground taken by Mr. Webster, who, instead 
of availing himself of any technical advantage in 
pushing the prisoner hard, confined himself to the 
main points of law and fact. He said that he had 
never since known Mr. Webster to show greater 
legal ability iu'any argument." 

The following anecdote of the two lawyers ia 
furnished by a friend and admirer of both : " I 
happened one day," he says, " to enter the court- 
room at Portsmouth, where I often went to hear 
Webster and Mason, who were always opposed to 
each other in important cases. I accidentally 
overheard the following dialogue between them, 
when a new case was called, and the clerk of the 
court asked who the counsel were on each side : 

u i "VVhich side are you on in this case ? ' said 
Mason to Webster. 

" ' I don't know,' was the reply ; ' take your 
choice.' " 

Mr. Webster told me many interesting anecdotes 



60 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

about this honored rival of his early triumphs. 
" When I went to Portsmouth," said he, " I was 
a young man of twenty-four, and Mr. Mason was 
forty. He was then at the head of the bar, and 
was employed in nearly all the great cases ; a man 
who was a terror to all young lawyers, because he 
was not conciliatory in his manner. I had a sort 
of awe for Mr. Mason when I went to Portsmouth ; 
but, in a residence and practice of nine years, 
nothing ever occurred to mar our friendship, 
although in almost all cases we went the circuit 
of the State on opposite sides. We travelled, 
boarded, and roomed together when on circuit. 
Mr. Mason was friendly and kind, and was one of 
my earliest, truest, and best friends. In only one 
instance did he ever treat me unkindly. It was in 
court at Portsmouth. I was proud of Mr. Mason's 
friendship, as any young man would be ; and it 
was remarked by others, 'how fond Mr. Mason 
appeared to be of young Webster ! ' But on this 
occasion something irritated him in court, and he 
turned upon me with the ferocity of a tiger, and 
assailed me as bitterly as his tongue was capable of 
doing. I was grieved, and could not retort. I 
went home dejDressed, and my wife asked me what 
the matter was. I replied : ' Mr. Mason has treated 
me unkindly ; ' and I was speaking of it when Mr. 
Mason's servant came in, and said that his master 
wished to see me at his office. I immediately went 
thither. Mr. Mason met me in the most cordial 
manner, and said : ' I was irritated about something, 
when my eye fell on you, and I vented my feelings 



AT THE BAIL 61 

in the way I did. Don't think of it, for I meant 
nothing of the sort.' 

^' I was most glad to have the matter end so ; 
and that was the only time he ever treated me 
mikindly in any way." 

" One day," said Mr. Webster, " Mr. Mason said 
to me : — 

" ' You graduated at Dartmouth College — I at 
Yale. I never was at Dartmouth at commence- 
ment ; would not you like to go ? ' 

" ' Yes ; I should be delighted if I had the means 
to afford it,' I replied." 

Mr. Mason and Mr. Webster used to ride about 
together in a chaise, carrying their luggage in a 
trunk tied under the vehicle. 

" *^ Well,' said Mr. Mason, ' I have been thinking 
it over, and I should like to go up to Hanover to 
commencement,' and there is no reason why I 
should not. And besides, on the way there, at 
Enfield, lives a curious community of Shakers, in 
whom I feel interested. One of them, named 
Lucas, applied to me not long ago to assist in col- 
lecting a debt, and I became quite interested in 
the people and their curious customs. If you have 
a mind to go up to Hanover, I '11 take you in 
my chaise, and we will stop and dine with these 
Shakers.' 

" ' I shall be delighted to go,' I replied. 

'- So the day was set ; and, until it arrived. 
Mr. Mason talked of nothing but this excursion. 
We planned it all in advance ; we were to start 
early, stop at Enfield and take dinner, spend an 



02 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

hour or two with the Shakers, and then, in the 
cool of the evening, drive up to Hanover. The 
next day we would attend commencement; and 
on the third dav return home. Mr. Mason was as 
delighted as a boy, and we started on this pleasant 
excursion according to the plan, and reached the 
Shaker village just about twelve o'clock. Mr. 
Mason talked all the way about the Shakers, — of 
their mode of life, what could induce them to live 
in seclusion, w^hat a quiet people they were, and 
so on. As we drove up to the gate, the women 
were just passing from their dining-room across 
the green, a little above where we tied the horse. 
Mason had a long whip in his hand, and as they 
passed we deferentially stepped aside from their 
path. I noticed that the women, as they passed, 
dressed in their plain attire, looked at Mason's tall 
figure and smiled, and finally giggled outright. I 
knew his sensitiveness, and I attempted to draw 
his attention away ; but the situation became pain- 
ful, until the procession was out of sight. We 
moved towards the house, and pretty soon two or 
three Shakers came out. They looked at Mr. 
Mason in astonishment; they gazed at his feet, 
his head, and his legs, and walked around him to 
get a good view. I kept as far behind as I could, 
so as to avoid the coming wrath. Mason spoke 
up and said : ' We are going up to Hanover to at- 
tend commencement, and thought we would come 
this way. We have heard something about your 
people, and, if you would bait our horse and give 
us a little dinner, we should be grateful. We 



AT THE BAR. C3 

have come from tlie lower part of the State.' In- 
stead of sa^dng, ' Certainly,' taking the horse, and 
giving us their best hospitality, they were evi- 
dently awe-struck at Mason's height, and stood 
still and stared. At last one of them said : — 

" ' Thou must be Jeremiah Mason, of Portsmouth. 
Friend Lucas saw Mr. Mason in Portsmouth, and 
since he returned he has talked of nothing but 
his extraordinary stature. We saw thee come in, 
and we thought thou must be he.' 

" ' Yes,' he replied, ' I am Jeremiah Mason ; but 
I did not come here to be insulted. Come, Web- 
ster, let's leave this place.' 

" ' But,' said I, ' wait a moment.' 

" ' No ! ' he retorted ; ' don't talk to me ; come 
along ! I did not come here to be insulted by a 
pack of broad-brims ! ' 

" They now begged him to stop and dine ; but 
he had begun to untie his horse, and would hear 
nothing. ' Come along, Webster ! ' cried he, ' I've 
had enough of these people ; I did not come here 
to be insulted ! ' So I got into the chaise, and he 
put on the whip, driving the horse at top speed 
till we reached the next tavern. And, from that 
day to this, he has never said ' Shaker ' to me." 

Mr. Webster said that Mason, at various periods 
of his life, was differently affected by his gigantic 
stature. When young, he was annoyed by it, and 
could not bear an allusion to his height. " Proba- 
bly," said Mr. Webster, " the stoop in his gait, 
which was quite marked in old age, was first 
acquired by an instinctive effort to seem shorter 



64 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

than he was." In middle age, however, Mason 
seemed to him to change in his feehng as to his 
bodily peculiarity, and to become actually proud 
of his majestic port. In old age he became quite 
indifferent to what was said about it. Mr. Webster 
thought that the homely and blunt style wliich 
Mason adopted was assumed as a sort of bravado, 
and an exhibition of contempt for the remarks on 
his peculiarities. He was clownish, and could not 
be any thing else, he said. His voice had a strong 
nasal twang, and his movements were the most un- 
couth possible. 

Once Mr. Choate, in order to draw out Mr. 
Webster's recollections of Mason, said to him : 

" Your opinion of Jeremiah Mason is, I thhik, 
that he was, take him for all in all, your beau- 
ideal of a lawyer." 

Mr. Webster leaned forward on his elbows, and 
replied : — 

" I have known Jeremiah Mason long-er, I mav 
say, than I have known any eminent man. He 
was the first man of distinction in the law whom I 
knew ; and, when I first became acquainted with 
him, he was in full practice. I knew that genera- 
tion of lawyers as a younger man knows those who 
are his superiors in age, — by tradition, reputation, 
and hearsay, and by occasionally being present 
and hearing their efforts. In this way I knew 
Luther Martin, Edmund Randolph, Goodloe Hart, 
and all those great lights of the law ; and, by the 
way, I think, on the whole, that was an abler bar 
than the present one, — of course with some bril- 



AT THE BAR. 65 

liant exceptions. Of the present bar of the United 
States I think I am able to form a pretty fair 
opinion, having an intimate personal knowledge of 
them in the local and federal courts ; and this I can 
say, that I regard Jeremiah Mason as eminently 
superior to any other lawyer whom I ever met. I 
should rather, with my own experience (and I have 
had some pretty tough experience with him), meet 
them all combined in a case, than to meet him 
alone and single-handed. He was the keenest 
lawyer that I ever met or read about. If a man 
had Jeremiah Mason, and he did not get his case, 
no human ingenuity or learning could get it. He 
drew from a very deep fountain. Yes," smilingly 
added Mr. Webster, to the great amusement of 
the company, " I should think he did, — from his 
height ! " 

Mr. Webster once told me a story of Mr. Mason, 
aproi^os of his connection with the defence of 
E. K. Avery, — a Methodist minister who was 
accused of murdering a Mrs. Cornell at Fall River. 
The Methodists, feeling the reputation of their de- 
nomination to be at stake, raised a large subscrip- 
tion, and employed Mr. Mason to defend Mr. 
A-very. The trial was a long and tedious one ; and 
Mr. Mason was much perplexed and harassed by 
the constant stream of impertinent inquiry and 
suggestion which came from the prisoner's friends. 
A great deal of testimony was taken in the trial, 
which lasted for three weeks ; and, as Mason was 
then old, and about giving up his profession, he 
wanted a quiet night to prepare himself physically 



66 RKMIXLSCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

for engaging in the final arguments. He knew by 
experience that he must take precautions to avoid 
being roused from his sleep by some of these med- 
dling friends ; so he told the barkeeper at his hotel 
that he was going to bed early, and that he did not 
wish to be, and would not be, disturbed after he 
had retired to his room. He went to bed. About 
eleven o'clock, a ministerial-looking person came 
in, and said to the barkeeper : — 

" I want to see Mr. Mason." 

" You can't see him to-night. He is very tired, 
and gave orders that he should not be disturbed." 

" But I must see him. If I should not see him 
to-night, and if to-morrow the case should go 
wrong, I never should forgive myself." 

" Well," returned the barkeeper, " I'll show you 
his room." 

This he accordingly did. Mr. Mason rose up in 
bed, and exclaimed to the barkeeper : — 
What did I tell you, sir ? " 
Well," replied he, " the man must explain." 

Mr. Mason thought the best way to get out of 
the difficulty was to hear what the intruder had to 
say ; and he told him, rather roughly, to begin. 

" I had retired to rest about an hour ago," said 
the man, " after having commended this case, 
Brother Avery, and everybody connected with it 
to the Throne of Grace, in fervent prayer that the 
truth might be elicited; and I do not know how 
long I had slept, when I was awakened by an au- 
dible voice. I saw an angel standing right at the 
foot of the bed, just as distinctly as I see you ; and 



a 



AT THE BAR. 67 

ill a veiy distinct tone of voice, it said : ^ Mr. Avery 
is innocent of this crime,' and immediately van- 
ished. Of this, sir, I am ready to take my oath." 

Mr. Mason looked at him with an expression of 
mixed indignation and contempt ; but was so much 
struck, after a moment, by the ludicrousness of the 
scene, that he began to question the man. 

" You yourself saw this angel ? " 

'' Yes." 

" And he immediately vanished ? " 

"He did." 

" Do you think there is any possibility of seeing 
him again ? " 

"It maybe." 

" Well, if you should happen to see him, you 
just ask him how he could prove it ! " 

Among Mr. Webster's reminiscences of his pro- 
fessional career at Portsmouth, and of Jeremiah Ma- 
son's connection with it, was one relating to a case 
in which a man named Bramble was implicated. 
Matthew Bramble, it appears, was a wealthy resi- 
dent of Portsmouth, and, as the sequel proved, an 
unscrupulous man. His social position was good, 
but a feeling of distrust towards him existed in 
the community. It seems that Bramble had given 
to a man named Brown an annuity bond, agreeing 
to pay him one hundred dollars a year as long as he 
lived. This was to keep dormant a title to some 
real estate. Bramble had more than once tried to 
persuade Brown to take a " lump " sum of money, 
and cancel the bond ; but this Brown persistently 
declined to do, and in this he was supported by the 



68 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

advice of his friends. After in vain offering one 
thousand dollars, Bramble resorted to the following 
method of getting rid of his obligation. He was 
accustomed, when he paid the hundred dollars, to 
endorse it on the bond. The next chance he got, he 
endorsed, not one hundred dollars, but one thousand 
dollars, adding, " in full consideration of and cancel- 
ling this bond." Brown, who could not read or 
write, unsuspectingly signed his mark to this en- 
dorsement. Bramble then coolly handed him back 
the bond, and of course said nothing of the matter. 
When the year came round, an altercation took 
place between them. Bramble said : " I owe you 
nothing ; I paid you a thousand dollars, and it is 
certified on your bond." Brown was a poor shoe- 
maker — simple-minded, truthful, weak — not ca- 
pable of coping with this wily scamp. He was 
friendless, while Bramble was a rich man. Poor 
Brown did not know what to do. He had con- 
vinced his neighbors that he was right. He went 
to Jeremiah Mason, who told him he was Matthew 
Bramble's lawyer. Mr. Mason had asked Bramble 
about the matter, and the latter had showed 
the bond ; and Mr. Mason probably believed him. 
A friend then advised Brown to go to Mr. Web- 
ster ; and, after hearing his story, Mr. Webster 
was quite convinced of the truth of Brown's state- 
ment. He had no confidence in Bramble. In re- 
lating the story, he said to me : " I knew nothing 
positively against Bramble, but something im- 
pressed me that he was not a man of honor. I 
was at once satisfied that he had committed this 



AT THE BAR. 69 

fraud upon Brown, and I told the latter that 1 
would sue Bramble for the annuity. He said he 
had nothing to give me in payment. I said I 
wanted nothing. I sent Bramble a letter, and he 
made his appearance in my office. 

" ' I should hke to know,' said he sharply, ' if 
you are going to take up a case of that kind in 
Portsmouth. It seems to me that you don't know 
on which side your bread is buttered.' 

" * This man has come to me,' I replied, * w^ith- 
out friends, and has told me a plain, straightforward 
story; and it sounds as if it were true. It is not 
a made-up story. I shall pursue this thing and sue 
you, unless you settle it.' " 

Bramble went to Mr. Mason, who afterwards said 
to Mr. Webster : " I think you have made a mis- 
take. Bramble is a man of influence. It can't be 
that the fellow tells the truth. Bramble would not 
do such a thing as that." Mr. Webster replied : 
" He has done just such a thing as that, and I 
shall try the suit." 

So the preliminary steps were taken, and the 
suit was brought. The case came on at Exeter in 
the Supreme Court, Judge Smith on the bench. 
It created great excitement. Bramble's friends 
were incensed at the charge of forgery; but 
Brown, too, in his humble way, had his friends. 
Mr. Webster said : — 

" I never in my life was more badly prepared 
for a case. There was no evidence for Brown, and 
what to do I did not know. But I had begun the 
suit, and was going to run for luck, perfectly satis- 



70 liEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

fieri that I was right. There were Bramble and 
his friends, with Mason ; and poor Brown only had 
his counsel. And Mason began to sneer a Uttle, 
saying, ' That is a foolish case.' 

" Well, a person named Lovejoy was then living 
in Portsmouth ; and when there is a great deal of 
litigation, as there was in Portsmouth and many 
towns in New Hampshire, there will always be one 
person of a kind not easily described, — a shrewd 
man who was mixed up in all sorts of affairs. 
Lovejoy was a man of this kind, and was a witness 
in nearly all the cases ever tried in that section. 
He was an imperturbable witness, and never could 
be shaken in his testimony. Call Lovejoy, and he 
would swear that he was present on such an occa- 
sion ; and he seemed to live by giving evidence in 
this way. I was getting a little anxious about the 
case. I was going to attempt to prove that Brown 
had been appealed to by Bramble for years to give 
up his bond, and take a sum of money, and that 
he had always stoutly refused ; that he had no 
uses for money, and had never been in the receipt 
of money ; and that he could not write and was 
easily imposed upon. But although I felt that I 
was right, I began to fear that I should lose the 
case. 

" A Portsmouth man, who believed in Brown's 
story, came to me just before the case was called, 
and whispered in my ear : ' I saw Lovejoy talking 
with Bramble just now in the entry, and he took 
a paper from him.' I thanked the man, told him 
that was a pretty important thing to know, and 



AT THE BAR. 71 

asked him to say nothing about it. In the course 
of the trial, Mr. Mason called Lovejoy, and he took 
the oath. He went upon the stand and testihed 
that some eight or ten months before he was in 
Brown's shop, and that Brown mended his shoes 
for him. As he was sitting in the shop, he natu- 
rally fell into conversation about the bond, and 
said to Brown : ' Bramble wants to get back the 
bond, — why don't you sell it to him ? ' ' Oh,' 
said Brown, ' I have ; he wanted me to do it, and, 
as life is uncertain, I thought I might as well take 
the thousand dollars.' He went on to testify that 
the ' said Brown ' told him so and so ; and when 
he expressed himself in that way, I knew he was 
being prompted from a written paper. The ex- 
pression was an unnatural one for a man to use in 
ordinary conversation. It occurred to me in an 
instant that Bramble had given Lovejoy a paper, 
on which was set down what he wanted him to 
testify. There sat Mason, full of assurance, and 
for a moment I hesitated. Now, I thought, I will 
' make a spoon or spoil a horn ! ' I took the pen 
from behind my ear, drew myself up, and marched 
outside of the bar to the witness-stand. ' Sir ! ' I 
exclaimed to Lovejoy, ^ give me the paper from 
which you are testifying ! ' In an instant he pulled 
it out of his pocket ; but before he had it quite out, 
he hesitated and attempted to put it back. I seized 
it in triumph. There was his testimony in Bram- 
ble's handwriting ! Mr. Mason got up and claimed 
the protection of the court. Judge Smith inquired 
the meaning of this proceeding. I said : ' Prfjvi- 



72 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

dence protects the innocent when they are friend- 
less. I think I could satisfy the court and my 
learned brother, who, of course, was ignorant of 
this man's conduct, that I hold in Mr. Bramble's 
handwriting the testimony of the very respectable 
witness who is on the stand.' The court adjourned, 
and I had nothing further to do. Mason told his 
client that he had better settle the affair as quickly 
as possible. Bramble came to my office, and as 
he entered, I said : ' Don't you come in here ! I 
don't want any thieves in my office.' ' Do what- 
ever you please with me, Mr. Webster,' he replied ; 
* I will do whatever you say.' ' I will do nothing 
without witnesses — we must arrans-e this matter.' 
I consulted Mr. Mason, and he said he did not care 
how I settled it. So I told Bramble that, in the 
first place, there must be a new life-bond for one 
hundred dollars a year, and ample security for its 
payment ; and that he must also pay Brown five 
hundred dollars, and my fees, which I should charge 
pretty roundly. To all this he assented, and thus 
the case ended." 

Mr. Webster told me this at Exeter. We went 
over there from Portsmouth, dined, and went to 
the academy, where he had fitted himself for col- 
lege, and to the court-house, where this Bramble 
trial took place. After dinner he took his nap, 
and, while he was in his room, several old men 
who were in the hotel came to me and said they 
had known Mr. Webster when he was a young 
man, and that they should like to see him. I said : 
" Certainly, after he finishes his nap." So when 



AT THE BAR. 73 

he got up, I said : " These old men would like 
to speak to you." He came out into the bar- 
room, received them cordially, and was evidently 
very glad to see them. They talked over the 
events of the past quarter of a century with 
much interest. At last one of them spoke up 
and said : — 

" Would you have any objection, Mr. Webster, 
to answering a question ? " 

" Certainly not." 

"Do you remember the case of Bramble and 
Brown, the shoemaker ? " 

" Oh, yes." 

" Well, how did you know that Lovejoy had that 
paper in his pocket ? We have been thinking of 
that ever since, and I was determined, if I ever 
saw you, to ask you how it was." After a hearty 
laugh, Mr. Webster satisfied their curiosity. 

Mr. Webster's high respect for Mr. Mason's 
judgment is evinced in a letter which he wrote to 
him in February, 1824, in which the following 
passage occurs : " Of the compliments my Greek 
speech has received, I value your letter more than 
all ; for although you say, of course, as much as 
you think, I presume your real opinion is so favor- 
able that you believe the speech reputable. I am 
quite satisfied with that." 

Mr. Webster delivered a eulogy on Jeremiah 
Mason before the Suffolk Bar, in which he said : 

" The proprieties of this occasion compel me, 
with whatever reluctance, to refrain from the in- 
dulgence of the personal feelings which arise in my 



74 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

heart, upon the death of one with whom I have 
cultivated a sincere, affectionate, and unbroken 
friendship, from the day when I first commenced 
my professional career, to the closing hour of his 
life. I will not say of the advantages which I 
Iiave derived from his intercourse and conversa- 
tion, all that Mr. Fox said of Edmund Burke ; but 
I am bound to say, that of my own professional 
discipline and attainments, whatever they may be, 
I owe much to that close attention to the discharge 
of my duties which I was compelled to pay, for 
nine successive years, from day to day, by Mr. 
Mason's efforts at the same bar. Fas est ah hoste 
doceri ; and I must have been unintelligent, in- 
deed, not to have learned something from the 
constant displays of that power which I had so 
much occasion to see and feel." 

But few anecdotes of Mr. Webster's manner at 
the bar in examining witnesses and meeting the 
assaults of his adversaries have been recorded. 
Many pleasing incidents of his life as an advocate 
stm exist in the memories of living men ; but for 
want of a scribe they are likely to be forgotten. 
When Mr. Webster, in company with Professor 
Ticknor, paid a visit to ex-President Madison in 
1824, Mr. Madison remarked, in conversation, that 
he had often, in his pubHc life, received credit for 
more wisdom than he really possessed; and yet 
the circumstances in any given case seemed fairly 
to warrant the public m forming their estimate of 
his abilities. Mr. Webster replied that the same 
thing had undoubtedly happened to every man 



AT THE BAR. 75 

engaged in public affairs. The same had been 
true of himself. He said that, in the first years 
of his professional life, a blacksmith called on 
him for advice respecting the title to a small 
estate bequeathed to him by his father. The 
terms of the will were peculiar, and the kind of 
estate transmitted was doubtful. An attempt had 
been made to annul the will. Mr. Webster ex- 
amined the case, but was unable to give a definite 
opinion upon the matter for want of authorities. 
He looked through the law libraries of Mr. Mason 
and other legal gentlemen for authorities, but in 
vain. He ascertained what works he needed for 
consultation, and ordered them from Boston at an 
expense of fifty dollars. He spent the leisure hours 
of some weeks in going through them. He success- 
fully argued the case when it came on for trial ; and 
it was decided in his favor. The blacksmith was 
in ecstasies ; for his Uttle all had been at stake. 
He called for his attorney's bill. Mr. Webster, 
knowing his poverty, charged him only fifteen 
dollars, intending to suffer the loss of money paid 
out, and to lose the time expended in securing the 
verdict. Years passed away, and the case was for- 
gotten ; but not the treasured knowledge by which 
it was won. On one of his journeys to Washington, 
Mr. Webster spent a few days in New York city. 
While he was there, Aaron Burr waited on him for 
advice in a very important case, then pending in the 
State court. He told him the facts on which it was 
founded. Mr. Webster saw, in a moment, that it 
was an exact counterpart to the blacksmith's will 



76 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

case. On being asked if he could state the law 
applicable to it, he at once replied that he could. 
He proceeded to quote decisions bearing upon the 
case, going back to the time of Charles 11. As he 
went on with his array of principles and authori- 
ties, all cited with the precision and order of a 
table of contents, Mr. Burr arose in astonishment, 
and asked, with some warmth : — 

" Mr. Webster, have you been consulted before 
in this case ? " 

"^ Most certainly not," he replied. "I never 
heard of your case till this evening." 

" Very well," said Mr. Burr, " proceed." 

Mr. Webster concluded the rehearsal of his au- 
thorities, and received from Mr. Burr the warmest 
praise of his profound knowledge of the law, and 
a fee large enough to remunerate him for all the 
time and trouble spent on the blacksmith's case. 

The following anecdote relates to the period of 
Mr. Webster's practice at the Portsmouth bar. It 
appears that, some years before, a certain teamster, 
named John Greenough, living in Grafton County, 
who was in the habit of stopping at Ebenezer Web- 
ster's house on his way to and from Boston, had on 
a certain occasion come within a mile or two of the 
house, and could get no further, owing to the weight 
of his load and the badness of the roads. He there- 
upon sent to Colonel Webster, and begged the loan 
of a span of horses. " Dan " was at once sent back 
with the horses. He was roughly dressed, wearing 
an old straw hat, and looking the stalwart country 
lad that he was. The teamster thanked him for 



AT THE BAR. 77 

coming to his assistance, and proceeded on his way, 
and " Dan " was soon out of his thoughts. Years 
after, the incident was recalled to his mind under 
these circumstances : The teamster had been 
brought into litigation on account of a question 
respecting the title to his farm. His whole prop- 
erty was staked in the case. He engaged Moses P. 
Payson, of Bath, as his counsel ; but, being very 
anxious about the result, he allowed Mr. Payson to 
associate another lawyer with him. A few days 
after, the teamster was told that Mr. Webster had 
been engaged. He remarked that he did not 
know any lawyer of that name, and asked if he 
was from Boston. " No," replied Mr. Payson ; " he 
is Daniel Webster, son of old Ebenezer, of Salis- 
bury." " What! " exclaimed the teamster, " that 
little black stable-boy that once brought me some 
horses ! Then I think we might as well give up 
the case." He was told that the trial could not 
be postponed, and that they must make the best 
of it. The case was duly called. The teamster, 
with a gloomy countenance, took his place in court. 
When his turn came, Mr. Webster rose to make 
the closing plea. The teamster looked at him with 
a kind of idle curiosity, and something like con- 
tempt; but as his advocate f)roceeded with his 
argument, and brought the powers of his great 
mind to bear upon the subject, the man became 
wrapt up in his words, and gradually drew nearer 
to where he was standing. He listened with 
breathless attention until Mr. Webster closed ; 
when Mr. Payson turned and asked, — 



78 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

" What do you think of him now ? " 
" Think ! " exclaimed the teamster. " Why, I 
think he is an angel sent from heaven to save 
me from ruin, and my wife and children from 
misery ! " 

The case was won in due course, and the team- 
ster returned home triumphant and happy. 



CHAPTER IV. 

AT THE BAR. — Continued. 

Mr. Webster, in reflecting upon his qualities as 
a lawyer, was convinced that they did not lie in 
the direction of the bench. His talents, he saw, 
were less judicial than forensic. He wrote to a 
friend,^ in 1840, as follows: "For my own part, 
I could never be a judge. There never was a time 
when I would have taken the office of chief jus- 
tice of the United States, or any other judicial 
station. I believe the truth may be that I have 
mixed so much study of politics with my study of 
law, that, though I have some respect for myself 
as an advocate, and some estimate of my knowl- 
edge of general principles, yet I am not confident 
of possessing aU the accuracy and precision of 
knowledge which the bench requires." 

His main strength as a lawyer, indeed, rested 
upon his " knowledge of general principles." 
He read books in early life, and treasured in his 
mind the great maxims of the law and the famous 
decisions which largely control and direct practice 
at the bar. In later years he seldom consulted 
authorities. After his judgment had been ma* 

1 Mr. Ketchum. 



80 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

tiired by severe discipline, he trusted to its prompt- 
ings. In difficult cases he often assumed what the 
law must be, and made his brief accordingly. He 
sometimes wrote down the positions he should take 
and the heads of the arguments he should present, 
and left it to his junior counsel to look up the au- 
thorities. He was seldom at fault in his opinions 
of the law. He knew better what the law must 
be in a given case than what it really was in the 
reports. Before he left New Hampshire, he had 
adopted, to some extent, this self-reliant method 
of pleading. He sometimes asked for the recollec- 
tions of a brother lawyer about a legal point, as he 
entered the court-room, to see if they agreed with 
his own impressions. Parker Noyes, alriady re- 
ferred to, was a legal oracle in the New Hampshire 
courts. He was quite as often consulted as Black- 
stone by members of the bar. In one instance, at 
Plymouth, Mr. Webster said to Mr. Noyes : — 

" I have been asked to take charge of an impor- 
tant case to-day, involving such and such princi- 
ples. I have no authorities at hand, but I shall 
assume that the law is so [stating his position]. Is 
this right ? " 

" It is right in substance," replied Mr. Noyes, 
*' but I doubt as to details. However, you wiH not 
err materially if you state the law in your own 
language." 

Mr. Noyes said that, on recurring to his authori- 
ties, he found that Mr. Webster was entirely right. 

That eminent lawyer, Samuel Dexter, of Boston, 
had a mental constitution which resembled that of 



AT THE BAR. 81 

Mr. Webster. In 1804, while studvino- in Mr. 
Gori's office, Mr. Webster wrote down his opinion 
of some of the distinguished characters at the 
Boston bar. Of Dexter, he says : — 

" He is not a great student. Early attention 
has stored his mind with an immense fund of gen- 
eral principles, and he trusts his own power in the 
application. He is generally opposed in causes 
to Parsons, and their contest is that of exalted 
minds." 

These two lawyers sustained to each other a 
relation similar to that which afterwards existed, 
in the New Hampshire courts, between Webster 
and Mason. Parsons and Dexter evidently im- 
pressed the young student with their manifest 
greatness. He drew portraits of both at some 
length. The sketch he has given of Parsons 
would not be inapphcable to Mason. He says : 

" The characteristic endowments of his mind are 
strength and shrewdness ; strength which enables 
him to support his cause, shrewdness by which he 
is always ready to retort the salUes of his adver- 
sary. His manner is steady, forcible, and perfectly 
perspicuous. He does not address the jury as a 
mechanical body, to be put in motion by mechani- 
cal means. He appeals to them as men, and as 
having minds capable of receiving the ideas in his 
own. Of course he never harangues. He is never 
stinted to say just so much on a point, and no 
more. He knows by the juror's countenance when 
he is convinced ; and therefore never disgusts him 
by arguing that of which he is already sensible, or 



32 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 



\vhich he knows it impossible to impress. A mind 
thus strong, direct, prompt, and vigorous is culti- 
vated b}^ habits of the most intense application. A 
great scholar in every thing, in his profession he is 
peculiarly great. He is not content with shining 
on occasions ; he will shine everywhere. As no 
cause is too great, none is too small for him. He 
knows the benefit of understanding small circum- 
stances. 'Tis not enough for him that he has 
learned the leading points of a cause ; he wQl 
know every thing. His argument is, therefore, 
consistent with itself, and its course is so luminous 
that you are ready to wonder why any one should 
hesitate to follow him. Facts which are uncertain 
he with so much art connects with others well 
proved that you cannot get rid of the former with- 
out disregarding also the latter. He has no fond- 
ness for public life, and is satisfied with standing 
where he is, — at the head of his profession." 

This youthful sketch reveals the accurate judg- 
ment and clear statement of facts which marked 
Mr. Webster in his maturity. It shows, too, the 
high estimate he then set on superior talents in his 
profession. The men whom he described, as the di- 
version of a leisure hour, in a commonplace book 
of daily expenses, were undoubtedly his models. 
He studied them at the bar and in private life. 
He was impressed with their eminent abilities 
and their unquestioned success ; and thus com- 
pares the two great champions of city practice 
at that time : — 

" In point of character, Dexter undoubtedly 



AT THE BAR. 83 

Stands next to Parsons at the Boston bar; and 
in the neighboring counties and States, I suppose, 
he stands above him. He has a strong, general- 
izing, capacious mind. He sees his subject in one 
view ; and in that view, single and alone, he 
presents it to the contemplation of his heaier. 
Unable to follow Parsons in minute, technical dis- 
tinctions, Parsons is unable to follow him in the 
occasional vaultings and boundings of his mind. 
Unlike Parsons, too, he cannot be great on little 
occasions. Unlike him. Parsons cannot reject every 
little consideration on great occasions. Parsons 
begins with common maxims, and his course to 
the particular subject and the particular conclusion 
brightens and shines more and more clearly to its 
end. Dexter begins with the particular position 
which he intends to support ; darkness surrounds 
him ; no one knows the path by which he arrived 
at his conclusion. Around him, however, is a circle 
of light when he opens his mouth. Like a con- 
flagration seen at a distance, the evening mists may 
intervene between it and the eye of the observer, 
although the blaze ascend to the sky and cannot 
tut be seen." 

Many years after this minute comparison be- 
tween the rival giants of the Boston bar at the 
beginning of the century was written, Mr. Webster 
told me that he regarded Chief Justice Parsons as 
one of the greatest men New England had produced, 
and laid special stress on his eminence as a judge. 
He said that while the Massachusetts Convention to 
adopt the Constitution was in session, and a doubt 



84 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

rested on the whole question, Governor Hancockj 
whose influence and opinions had great weight 
with his friends in the convention, was ill, and did 
not attend its sessions until near the close of the 
debates. There were two parties, nearly equal in 
numbers, and there was some doubt as to which 
side Hancock would espouse. Near the close of 
the session, however, he read a speech in favor of 
adopting the Constitution, and voted in accordance 
with it. This turned the scale, and a majority sus- 
tained the Constitution. After Hancock's death, 
his papers were examined ; and when this speech 
was found, it turned out to be written, from begin- 
ning to end, in the handwriting of Chief Justice 
Parsons. 

I have in my possession several small memoran- 
dum books in which Mr. Webster jotted down, from 
time to time, a desultory diary, various notes, and 
accounts. One of these contains a curious record of 
the fees he received during several of the most ac- 
tive years of his practice. They may be compared 
with the much larger fees which the first lawyers 
receive in these later days. I find that, in the year 
ending September, 1834, his fees amounted to the 
sum of $13,140; in 1835, to $15,183.74; and in 
1836, to $21,793. Here Mr. Webster's accounts 
stop, he having only jotted down his fees from Sep- 
tember, 1834, to February, 1837. It must be added 
that these sums included his Congressional pay. The 
highest fee recorded during this period was $7,500, 
" in the New Orleans case ; " the next highest is 
of $3,000, " in Florida land case, instead of land; ' 



AT THE BAR. 85 

the noxt, of $2,250, in case of the United States 
Bank ; and there is one of $2,000. The smallest 
fee recorded is of $20, which I find twice in the 
account ; and the fees range generally between 
that sum and $500. 

Mr. Webster was fond of talking about the im- 
portant cases in which he had been engaged, and 
especially of those which enabled him to bring out 
striking events and curious anecdotes. He alwaya 
narrated their circumstances, not only with graphic 
minuteness, but with great spirit and zest. Many 
a time has he entertained me with these stories of 
the bar, in which he was most often the chief 
figure ; and I am able to give some of the most 
interesting almost in his own language. 

Few cases have excited more attention than 
that of John Sanborn against the administrators of 
Nathan Tufts, of Charlestown. It had been tried 
once, Jeremiah Mason and Rufus Choate having 
been the counsel, and the verdict had been set 
aside. In the second trial Mr. Webster was asso- 
ciated with Mr. Choate. The character of the par- 
ties lent added interest to the case, especially in 
Charlestown, where they lived. Nathan Tufts was 
a rich, retired tanner, who, having lived to a great 
age, died childless. His estate was found to be 
worth nearly half a million. He had a coachman, 
who was also a man-of-all-work, named John San- 
born. Sanborn had lived with Mr. Tufts twenty- 
five years, and everybody in Charlestown was 
familiar with him as " Mr. Tufts' man." He 
bought the provisions, drove the coach, settled 



S(i liEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

the household bills, and was one of those domes- 
tics w^ho are indispensable. 

Sanborn received small wages, and, as he had a 
family, he had several times threatened to leave 
Mr. Tufts and go West to better his fortunes. 
Mr. Tufts said he must not leave, that he would 
see that he was cared for, &c. ; and Sanborn con- 
tinued with him till his death, and indeed closed 
his eyes. It was well understood in Charlestown 
that Sanborn would be remembered in Tufts' will. 
The old gentleman had no very near relatives, only 
some nephews and nieces, for whom he cared very 
little. But, when the will was opened, Sanborn's 
name did not appear in it at all ; and in a place 
like Charlestown, where such things are the sub- 
ject of general conversation and remark, it is not 
singular that there was a general expression of 
indignation at the ingratitude of Mr. Tufts, who 
had left this large estate to remote heirs, and given 
nothing to the faithful Sanborn. No one joined 
more heartily in the cry of ingratitude than San- 
born himself. He went about complaining of Mr. 
Tufts' conduct. He had spent his life in his ser- 
vice, fully expecting that his wages were but a 
part of the consideration. Mr. J. P. Cook was the 
administrator of the will, and drew it up. He was 
a careful, painstaking lawyer, and had the will sent 
up and proved in due form ; and the thing went 
so far that the heirs discussed among themselves 
the propriety of giving Sanborn five or six 
thousand dollars, feeling that more ought to be 
done for him. Finally, in about a year after Mr. 



AT THE BAR. 87 

Tiifts' death, the story being then a little old, San- 
born suddenly ceased his complaints, and brought 
forward a claim in the form of a note of hand from 
Tufts, to pay him ten thousand dollars one year 
ufter death, and to deed to him the house and land 
on which he lived, worth ten thousand dollars more. 
The administrator refused to recognize these claims, 
and a suit was brought by Mr. Choate to recover 
the value of this land from him, and of this ten 
thousand dollar note. The administrator set up 
forgery as his defence, relying upon the circumstan- 
ces of the case, the improbability of the thing, and 
the denial of Sanborn that he had done any thing 
to deserve so much. The suit was tried in the Su- 
preme Court in Boston, and Mr. Choate, junior 
counsel, employed Mr. Mason to argue it. The 
jury gave a verdict for Sanborn for the whole 
amount ; but the verdict was set aside by the full 
bench as against the law and the evidence. When 
it came to a new trial, Mr. Webster was emploj-ed 
by Mr. Choate to take Mr. Mason's place. It was 
a question involving more than the mere sum of 
money claimed ; for the same decision that rejected 
the suit declared Sanborn a forger. There was a 
good deal of excitement, there being a wide-spread 
feeling of sympathy for Sanborn on one side, and 
some suspicion of foul play on the other. Mr. 
Samuel Hoar managed the suit — with Mr. Cook 
himself, and Mr. Peabody, an old black-letter, tech- 
nical lawyer — for the defence. I attended the 
trial, and heard the evidence and Mr. Webster's 
argument. Choate, as usual, was nervous. Theie 



88 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

was a large mass of evidence on both sides bj? 
experts, as to the genuineness of the signatures. 
There was the testimony of bank directors, who 
were familiar with Mr. Tufts' handwriting, and of 
other people who had had dealings with him. Some 
said that the signature to the note was genuine, 
and others declared it was not ; it was for the jury 
to decide. The whole case turned upon that. The 
incidents connected with the trial are quite fresh 
in my mind ; and they were very interesting from 
the fact that, pending the examination of witnesses, 
Mr. Choate was very nervous, and said he did not 
think Mr. Webster felt much interest in the case. 
He was afraid he would not argue it well. The 
evidence was closed on both sides on a Wednesday 
afternoon, when the court adjourned. The next 
day was Thanksgiving day, and the arguments 
were reserved for Friday and Saturday. Mr. 
Choate said : — 

" Mr. Webster, where can we meet to-morrow 
to talk over the case ? " 

" I am going to Mr. Paige's to dine," he replied, 
"and we will talk it over there." 

Mr. Choate hurried up to Mr. Paige's the next 
day, and began almost at once to talk about the 
case. 

" Mr. Choate," said Mr. Webster, " the governor 
of the Commonwealth has rather required us to 
abstain from all unnecessary labor to-day, and give 
our time to other topics of thought and reflection ; 
and upon the whole I think we had better comply 
with his request." Mr. Choate was nervous, but 



AT THE BAR. 89 

saw that he could have no consultation about the 
course of the argument. He went home and said 
to his wife : " I am sorry I am not going to argue 
that case myself, because I find that Mr. Webster 
don't care any thing about it." Choate was full 
of enthusiasm : his whole mind and soul and 
strength were given to his client. 

When the case was resumed, Mr. Hoar made the 
final argument for the defence, and Mr. Webster 
was to close for the plaintiff. Mr. Hoar spoke 
from nine o'clock until one. Mr. Webster said 
that he would finish the argument with an hour 
then, and the rest in the afternoon. Judge 
Shaw remarked that they preferred to sit in the 
evening. So Mr. Webster began to speak an hour 
before adjournment. He put his hand to his head, 
tossed about irregularly, got names wrong, and 
seemed to wander. There sat Mr. Choate, as ner- 
vous as if mad dogs were at his heels, twitching 
about in his seat, and alternately watching Mr. 
Webster and the jury. The court adjourned at 
two o'clock. I was then boarding at the Tremont 
House, as was Mr. Webster and Mr. Hoar. Mr. 
"Webster did not come to dinner. I met Mr. Hoar 
as he came in, and said he to me : — 

" You have been listening to this case pretty 
attentively : did you think Mr. Webster opened 
his argument with much spirit, or with his usual 
ability ? " 

" I don't think he got on very brilliantly to start 
with," I replied. 

" Well," said he, " it 's an awful case. There 'a 



90 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

nothing in his side of it ; but then, sir, you can't 
tell what he will do before he gets through. I 
never predict till after the game is run to cover." 

Mr. Webster came into court at three o'clock, a 
totally different man. He had an air that said, 
" Now the work is to be done ! " He pulled off his 
overshoes, threw his coat over the back of a chair, 
took up his notes, and began the argument of the 
case in dead earnest. Choate said afterwards that 
he never heard Webster argue a case better. 
Nothing ever impressed me more with his power 
than that argument. 

There are some points in taking testimony that 
no other living man could seize and grasp like Mr. 
Webster. It was necessary for Sanborn's counsel 
to have a theory about his denials for a w^hole 
twelvemonth. The theory was that Mr. Tufts, on 
the last night of his life, when Sanborn was watch- 
ing with him, broached the subject of his will; and 
that he said : " Well, John, you have been a faith- 
ful servant to me, and I ought to reward you for 
it ; if you will go and write an obligation, to give 
you the place where you live, and a note of hand 
for ten thousand dollars, I will sign them, on one 
condition : that you agree not to present them 
for a year after my death. 1 want my memory 
to be undisturbed for a year." John promised 
that he would keep the matter secret, and received 
the obligations. 

Still, it was a pretty hard matter to get over. 
The question would arise, " How happened San- 
born to cry, and to say hard things of Mr. Tafts ? " 



AT THE BAR. 91 

Mr. Webster asked all the witnesses who testi- 
fied to conversations of that sort on the part of 
Sanborn : " You say Sanborn told you that Mr. 
Tufts had not left him any thing; that was in 
answer to a question from you, was it not?" 
" Yes, sir," would be the reply. When that part 
of the testimony was reached in Mr. Webster's 
argument, he dwelt upon the fact that in every 
instance the witnesses for the defence, who were 
there to swear to the denials of Sanborn that he 
had received any thing, admitted that the matter 
was extorted from him. The question being, " Did 
Mr. Tufts leave you any thing ? " he was bound 
to fib a little ; he did not volunteer to say these 
things, and only said them when he was forced to 
do so, in order not to violate his pledge to Mr. 
Tufts. 

Mr. Hoar rose and begged Mr. Webster's par- 
don : " There was no such testimony in the case." 

Mr. Webster replied that he would refer the 
matter to the judge's notes; and there the judge 
found a minute of the evidence as stated by Mr. 
Webster in each one of the twenty cases. 

Mr. Hoar, in arguing the case, said that it was 
absurd that a man in his right mind, who was 
dying, and with the age and experience which Mr. 
Tufts had, should make so silly a request, — that 
the note be kept secret a year. " What difference 
did it make to Mr. Tufts ? It was a lie on the face 
of it ! What difference was there to a dying man 
between a minute and a million years ? " The 
question was put with all Mr. Hoar's powei-, and 



92 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

evidently had its effect upon the jury. When 
Mr. Webster came to reply, he said he was only 
surprised that such an argument should come from 
such a source. " ' What difference did it make ? ' 
is asked, as though there could be no difference. 
Why, the fact is just the other way. Men who 
have unimpaired senses and faculties, and are 
about to leave the world, do things every day 
which connect them with this world after they are 
gone. They take an interest in what is to follow 
their death. The very first professional act of my 
life," continued Mr. Webster, "when I was a young 
lawyer in New Hampshire, was to make a will for 
a strong-minded, sensible farmer, — a neighbor of 
my father. He was on his death-bed, with all 
his senses about him. I took down the conditions 
of his will, — so much for such a child, and such a 
provision for the widow ; and finally he said, ' I 
wish to have such a field planted next spring with 
a certain kind of corn.' I threw down my pen, 
and asked him if that might not better be left to 
those who would own it, ' No,' cried he, ' it is my 
will ! ' What difference did it make to that man 
what his heirs should sow in that field ? How 
many people provide for the erection of costly 
monuments after they are dead ? ' What difference 
does it make ? ' What difference \Yill it make to 
you, gentlemen of the jury, to the learned chief 
justice, to my learned brother on the other side, 
or to me, whether, after life has fled this mortal 
tenement, our poor bodies sleep in a beautiful 
cemetery, with Christian burial, or whiten and 



AT THE BAR. 93 

bleach upon the sands of the seashore ? Certain 
is it, that not one particle will be out of the reach 
of the trumpet of the archangel, which will call us 
to an account for the deeds done in the body, and 
among those deeds the manner in which we dis- 
charge our duty in this case." 

Mr. Webster's method of examining witnesses 
may be judged from the following scene, which 
occurred in this case. Among the witnesses was 
a bank cashier, to whom Mr. Webster said : — 

" You say you think this is not Mr. Tufts' sig- 
nature. What means had you of knowing Mr. 
Tufts' signature ? " 

" I was cashier of the bank of which he was 
president, and used to see his signature in all 
forms; and very often to obligations and notes 
and bills." 

" And you think that is not his signature ? 
Please to point out, if you will, where there is 
a discrepancy." 

" I do not know as I can tell." 

" But a sensible man can tell why he thinks one 
thing is not like another." 

"Well [examining the note], in the n the top 
used to be closed." 

" Gentlemen of the jury, you hear : the top was 
closed. Go on." 

" The s at the end of his name was usually kept 
above the horizontal line ; this is below." 

" Well ; any other ? " 

" Not any other." 

Mr. Webster then took one of the forty genume 



94 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

Bignatures which were in court, and, stating to the 
jury that it was admitted to be genuine, showed 
them that the very things the witness had testified 
Mr. Tufts never did, were to be found in this signa- 
ture, and in nearly every instance. 

The witness looked chapfallen, and took his seat ; 
and nearly all the witnesses were floored in the 
same way. At last they came to William P. Win- 
chester. He sat opposite to me, and looked at Mr. 
Webster with an air which said, " You won't get 
any such answers out of me." He took the stand, 
and testified that he did not think the signature 
genuine. 

" Why ? " asked Mr. Webster. 

" I can't tell," was the reply. 

" But, Colonel Winchester, an intelligent man 
can give a reason for his opinion. Pray, don't give 
such a statement as that without offering a reason 
for it." 

•' I can't give a reason ; but if you will allow me 
to make an illustration, I will do so." 

" Certainly." 

" Suppose," said Mr. Winchester, " some distin- 
guished man at home or abroad should be seen 
walking on 'Change ; suppose you were there at 
high 'Change ; it would be very natural to point 
out Daniel Webster, and say, ' There goes the de- 
fender of the Constitution.' Everybody would 
mark him, and nobody could mistake his identity. 
They woiUd always know him afterwards. But if, 
in the afternoon, some man brought me a head and 
two legs and two arms on a platter, and asked me 



AT THE BAR. 95 

to identify them separately as belonging to Daniel 
Webster, I could not swear to them. In the same 
way, there is something about this signature that 
does not look genuine ; but I could not swear to 
the particulars." Mr. Webster smiled at this reply, 
and told the witness that he might be excused. 

The following incident of the Sanborn suit may 
be related as an instance of Mr. Webster's keen- 
ness and power of repartee. Augustus Peabody, 
one of the opposing counsel, was very familiar with 
the "books," and no case could be cited which he 
could not find at once. He w^as a sort of walking 
dictionary of law. Mr. Webster was arguing to 
the jury, and cited some English case, when Mr. 
Peabody interrupted him, and asked where the 
case was to be found reported. Mr. Webster went 
straight on, paying no attention to the interrup- 
tion, and Mr. Hoar and Mr. Peabody hiuTiedly 
consulted together. Then Mr. Peabody rose and 
claimed the protection of the court. He said that 
Mr. Webster was citing authorities to sustain his 
argument, and they wished to know where they 
were to be found, so that they could judge for 
themselves as to the pertinency of the citation. 
Judge Shaw remarked that counsel had a right to 
know where the cases were to be found, and that 
the court itself would like to know\ Mr. Web«ter 
leaned against the rail, resting on his elbow, and 
looking at the court, said : — 

" It is not very good manners to interrupt me 
in the midst of a sentence addressed to the jury. 
It is a practice in which I never indulge. I always 



96 REMINISCENCES OF D^VNIEL WEBSTER. 

let counsel have their say, and if I can answer 
them, I do, as well as I can. This interrupting I 
don't like : it is rather a habit of my learned friend 
on the other side, and is quite annoying. He has 
appealed to me to know where the case that I have 
cited can be found reported, somewhat as if I had 
quoted a case that Avas fictitious. What I wish to 
say in answer to that is, that the case to which I 
referred was so and so [giving the names, &c.], 
and that it occurred in the third year of Lord 
Eldon in Chancery. In what particular volume of 
reports by Lord Eldon, on what particular page, 
and how many lines from the top of the page, I 
don't know. I never trouble myself with these 
little matters. Peabody has nothing else to do, 
and he can hunt it up at his leisure ! " 

In this Sanborn case, there was a witness whose 
testimony went quite strongly against Mr. WeJj- 
ster's side. He was asked about conversations 
that he had had with Mr. Webster's client, — how 
many times Sanborn had told him that Mr. Tufts 
had left him nothing ? The witness very naively 
and honestly replied, — 

" I should think a hundred times." 

Only a year had elapsed, and the extravagance 
of the statement made the court and jury laugh 
Mr. Hoar, whose witness he was, saw at once that 
the force of the testimony was broken by the exag- 
geration, and said he supposed the witness meant 
that Sanborn had told him this a good many times. 

" Think again, Mr. Skilton," said he j " how 
many times was it ? " 



AT THE BAK. 97 



i( 



Well,'' was the reply, " it might not have been 
more than sixty or seventy times." 

Upon being questioned again, he thought there 
might not be more than fifty times. 

When Mr. Webster addressed the jury on this 
point, he said : " Now I come to the testimony of 
Mr. Skilton ; and I can't better illustrate it than 
b}' telling a snake story that I once heard told by 
a man who was in the habit of drawing a pretty 
long bow. If he went out hunting or shooting, 
he always heard or saw something very wonderful. 
On one occasion he reported that he had seen a 
hundred black snakes, all in a row, and all twenty 
feet long. ' Why,' said a bystander, ' I don't be- 
lieve you ever saw one hundred black snakes in 
the world.' ' Well,' replied he, ' there were sev- 
enty-five.' ' I don't believe there were seventy- 
five.' ' Well, there were fifty, at any rate.' ' I 
don't believe there were fifty.' ' Well, there were 
forty.' And he finally got down to two, when he 
planted his foot firmly on the ground, and said : 
' I declare to you that I won't take off another 
snake ; I'll give up the story first ! ' So this wit- 
ness began at a hundred, and got down to seventy- 
five and fifty ; but all my learned brother's efforts 
could not get him below fifty ; he ' had rather give 
up the story.' " 

Mr. Webster once told me some interesting facts 
about the trial of the Kennisons at Newburyport, 
for the Goodrich robbery. This was a case in 
which a drover robbed himself in such a manner 
as to induce the belief that it was done by the 



98 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

Kennisons, who kept the toll-gate at Newburyport 
Bridge. He fired a pistol at his own hand, strewed 
gold along the road and in the cellar of the Kenni- 
sons, accused them of robbing him, and they were 
arrested. The object of this was to get rid of pay- 
ing his debts. He made the excuse that he had 
been robbed, and could not. The case excited a 
great deal of interest, for the Kennisons bore a 
respectable name, and the circumstantial evidence 
against them was very strong. Most people did 
not believe that they were guilty, and their friends 
and neighbors prepared to assist them in their de- 
fence. I will give the rest of the story in Mr. 
Webster's own words : — 

" I had been at Washington during a long ses- 
sion, and was on my return home. At Providence 
I got into the stage for Boston ; and, after a while, 
naturally fell into conversation with the one or 
two persons besides myself that it contained. I 
asked what the news was, &c., and found one of 
my new acquaintances to be Mr. Perkins, of New- 
buryport, — a very intelligent, pleasant man. 
From one topic of conversation to another, we 
came to speak of this robbery. Mr. Perkins said 
there was a great deal of excitement in Essex 
County, and, indeed, even in Boston, at so daring 
a highway robbery ; and there was much division 
of opinion about the affair. 1 recollected to have 
seen something about it in the papers, but had 
retained nothing, and now took no interest in the 
Bubject until Mr. Perkins said that his theory of 
the affair was that the man robbed himself. 



AT THE BAR. 99 

" ' Robbed himself ! ' said I. ' What could be 
his motive ? ' 

" ' To avoid the payment of money.' 

" ' What makes you think he shot himself ? ' 
1 asked. 

" ' The wound was in the inside of the left hand,' 
replied Mr. Perkins, ' on the inside ends of the fin- 
gers. He was fired at, and the ends of his fingers 
were torn off. Well, suppose you were to be as- 
saulted, would you be very likely to hold your hand 
open outwards ? The bullet, if it hit your hand, 
would hit the back of it. Now, if a man were 
going to fire at himself, he would shoot himself 
just where this man is wounded, and would hurt 
himself as little as possible.' 

" I became interested in the matter, and we 
talked of it till we got nearly home. I reached 
my house in Summer Street, tired and jaded. In 
the midst of my family the thought of every thing 
else went out of my head ; but the next morning, 
after a pretty long night's rest, I got up refreshed 
to rather a late breakfast. The bell rang, and the 
servant came to the breakfast-room to say that 
some gentlemen, who had already called two or 
three times to see me, were in the hbrary. ' Oh 
yes,' said my wife, ' they are two gentlemen from 
Newburyport, who are anxious to get you to go 
there, and defend some men for highway rob- 
bery. They seem to be very respectable men, 
and say that there has been a purse made up to 
give them good counsel. The court has also 
granted a delay, to give them a chance to con- 



100 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

suit you.' The case related to me by Mr. Perkins 
instantly crossed my mind ; but I said : — 

" ' I am tired, and shall not go to Newburyport 
to try any case.' 

" ' But,' said she, ' these men are very earnest, 
and you will have to see them yourself.' 

" I finished my breakfast, and then went down 
into the library to see them. They were very 
anxious that I should go, and said they were ready 
to pay any fee I demanded. I replied that the fee 
was of no consequence, and that the reason why I 
would not go was that I had just returned from 
Washington, and really needed repose. 

*' ' Besides,' I said, ' it isn't necessary that I 
should go ; there are other lawyers who can try 
it better than I. There is Judge Prescott.' 

" They rephed that Judge Prescott was engaged 
on the other side, and that that was one of the 
reasons why they wanted me. ' 

" ' Well,' I said, ' I can't go ; it is out of the 
question. You must get somebody else.' 

" They looked very despondent, as much as to 
say, ' We are very sorry, but can't help it.' Their 
expression was one that rather overcame me, and 
I began to relent. I asked them when the trial 
was to come off. They replied, it would be called 
in a day or two. And, after a few more Avords, 1 
told them I would go ; and I did go. 

" The evidence was strongly circumstantial, for 
Goodrich would not swear that Kennison was the 
man who assaulted and robbed him ; but he said 
it was a man that looked like him. Taking all 



AT THE BAR. 101 

the circumstances together, — the gold which was 
found and identified, the tracks, and so on, — the 
evidence was pretty strong against the accused. 
I had in my mind all the while what Perkins 
had said to me about shooting the inside of the 
hand ; and, after the Government had examined 
Goodrich for three hours, and made him tell a 
pretty straight story, they said they were through, 
and gave him to me to cross-examine. Then, for 
the first time in the history of the case, the line 
of defence developed itself in the first question 
which was asked. I never saw a man's color 
come and go so quickly, as when I asked him to 
explain how it was that he was wounded on the 
inside of his hand. He faltered, and showed the 
most unmistakable si^i-ns of a;uilt. I made him 
appear about as mean as any man ever did on the 
witness stand. The Kennisons were triumphantly 
acquitted, and Goodrich fled. Every one saw at 
once that he had perpetrated this robbery himself. 
But he had a good many friends, and though an 
indictment was found against him, he was allowed 
to leave this part of the country. 

" Some ten years afterwards," continued Mr. 
Webster, " I was travelling in Western New York 
with Mrs. Webster, and came, on a Saturday night, 
to a pleasant village near Geneva. We found a 
nice country hotel, selected rooms there, and made 
ourselves comfortable. It was a very warm even- 
ing, and my wife ordered some cold drink, — a 
pitcher of iced lemonade, I think. The barkeeper 
brought it into the room and put it on the table ; 



102 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

but as it was a little dark, I took no special notice 
of him. After he had gone out, Mrs. Webster 
said : ' Did you notice how agitated that person 
was ? ' I said, ' No, I did not notice him at all. 
* Well,' continued she, ' he eyed you very narrowly, 
and seemed to be very much frightened.' 

" I thought no more of it then ; but the next 
morning I was in the bar-room, and noticed that 
the man was very shy. As I approached, he 
would slip out and call some one else to attend me. 
I said to myself, ' What makes that man shun nje ? 
Who and what is he ? ' I pursued the subject in 
my mind, but could not make out who the nian 
was. The next day I called for my bill. As he 
made it out, he kept his back to me as much as 
possible, but finally handed it to me receiptod. 
It was not until I got into the carriage and drove 
off that I looked at the signature. I discov- 
ered, half obscured in the great inky border of 
the printed form, the name of Goodrich. Thim 
the whole thing came to me at once. This m.in 
had escaped from the indignant eye of the world ; 
had gone up there and engaged in this humble 
business of keeping a bar at a country hotel, and 
doubtless thought himself out of reach of old asso- 
ciations. No wonder that my presence agitated 
him so strongly." 

In the spring of 1852, — the year he died, — 
Mr. Webster was asked to argue the great india- 
rubber case, which was tried before the United 
States Court at Trenton, N. J. ; that of Goodyear 
V. Day. Day's counsel was Choate ; and as Good- 



AT THE BAR. 103 

year felt the importance of the suit to him, the 
legal fees which he should pay seemed a small 
matter. Mr. Webster was then Secretary of State, 
and no man occupying such a place had ever before 
tnken a fee and gone into court. He was over- 
worked and in feeble health. The labors of the 
St<ate Department were heavy and severe ; and 
when the proposition was made to him to go to 
New Jersey at that warm season of the year, to 
argue a case, it seemed almost an insult. He was 
nevertheless applied to, but said he could not think 
of it. I had seen Goodyear's agent, who told me 
that, if Mr. Webster would argue the case, he would 
give him a check for ten thousand dollars when- 
ever he should signify his willingness to undertake 
it ; and, if the case was decided in his favor, he 
would give five thousand dollars more. I told Mr. 
Webster of the offer; and, apparently struck with 
what I said, he replied : — 

" That is an enormous fee. Can he afford it ? " 
My reply was that it was his business, and he was 
a shrewd man, with every thing now at stake, 

" It's a hard thing to undertake," said Mr. Web- 
ster. " It is an unfavorable season of the year, and 
my duties at Washington are pressing ; but really 
I do not see how I can forego the fee. This fee I 
musi have, for it will pay fifteen thousand dollars 
of my debts, and that is what I am striving to do ; 
it is what, if my life is spared, I mean to do. If I 
can pay my debts, I shall die in peace, a happy 
man. I do not see how I can begin to do it so well 
as in this w\ay. I shall go and accept the fee." 



104 EEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

He did go ; received the fee, and won the cause. 
But he never put one dollar of the money into his 
own pocket. He appropriated it to pay his debts, 
in fact, before it was earned ; and I never in my 
life saw him apparently more delighted than when 
he received the money. Said he to me : " Three 
or four more such windfalls as that will let me die 
a free man; and that is all I live to do." 

Two weeks before Mr. Webster's death, I was 
at Marshfield, and intended to leave on a Monday 
morning. It was necessary to start very early, 
before the family should be astir, in order to get 
over to the depot at Kingston. The day before 
(Sunday), Mr. Webster had been distressed, and 
had had a really poor day. Something was said 
about the arrangements to get Mr. Paige and my- 
self over to the depot. I said : — 

" Mr. Webster, I wish you would not give it a 
thought; we shall get along very well." 

" I should like to know how you are going to 
get over to the depot without my assistance," he 
replied ; " nobody ever did it before. I shall send 
you over to the depot to-morrow morning with one 
black horse and one white one, — old Morgan. Is 
not he a noble horse ? And the black horse, — 
I don't believe you have seen him. I call him 
* Trenton.' You will see him, and tell me what 
you think of him. A few weeks ago, when I was 
in Trenton trying the Goodyear case, a noble and 
spirited black horse was driven up to the door of 
the hotel every morning, in a carryall, by Mr. 
Goodyear's servant, and I was carried to the court 



AT THE BAR. 105 

When the court adjourned, I was returned to my 
lodgings by the same conveyance. This went on 
for a good many days; and one day I made seme 
remark to Mr. Goodvear about the fine character of 
the horse. Said he : 'Do you like that horse, Mr. 
Webster ? ' 

" ' I think he is a very noble animal,' I replied. 

" When I came home, a month ago, that horse 
stood in my stall, with Mr. Goodyear's compli- 
ments. Was not that generous ? So I call him 
* Trenton ; ' and I have had a blanket made for 
him, and had it marked ' Trenton.' You must tell 
me, the next time you come down, what you think 
of him. I think him a very noble horse." 

Jonathan Smith, of Northampton, a wealthy 
bachelor, left all his estate, amounting to four 
or five hundred thousand dollars, in trust to the 
towns of North and East Hampton, for educa- 
tional and philanthropic purposes. But he had a 
great many near and poor relatives, — nephews, 
nieces, cousins, and so forth ; and none of them 
were even mentioned in the will. All his prop- 
erty was given to public purposes, and he en- 
tirely excluded his relatives from any part of it. 
They, of course, made a vigorous attempt to break 
the will, and to secure the property for themselves ; 
but they had scarcely a pretext for a contest. 
The will was well drawn, and they could not plead 
insanity or any undue influence. There was only 
one slender circumstance on which their case could 
stand. The law of Massachusetts required three 
good witnesses to every will, and no will was valid 



106 KEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

without them. The relatives undertook to break 
the will, on the ground that one of the witnesses 
was not of sound mind. If they could establish 
this, it would break the will, and the property 
would revert to the heirs. Mr. Choate was coun- 
sel for the relatives, against the validity of the 
will ; while, besides Mr. Baker, a former member 
of Congress from that district, and nearly a dozen 
other lawyers, Mr. Webster was employed by the 
town of Northampton to sustain the will. The case 
came on for trial in the Supreme Court at North- 
ampton, in the summer term. It was a very hot 
day when Mr. Webster returned to Boston after 
the trial. He came to my house fresh from court, 
and full of all the incidents connected with the 
contest. He gave me a very graphic account of 
the whole affair. The witness, whose soundness 
of mind was the turning point in the case, was a 
young law-student named Phelps, — a grandson of 
Chief Justice Parsons, whose daughter was Phelps's 
mother. Mr. Webster was exceedingly interested 
in this young man's character. When he arrived at 
Northampton, the suit was the sole topic of conver- 
sation among the townspeople ; and the eminence 
of the counsel on both sides gave it an additional 
interest. He went at once into consultation with 
the other counsel for the will, — his information 
about the case being then very limited. His 
brother lawyers gave him their briefs, and a state- 
ment of the case ; and he inquired into the history 
of this young man. They told him that the other 
Bide would not call him as a witness ; and they 



AT THE BAR. JO? 

(the counsel for the will), from what they knew 
of the condition of the j^oung man's mind and 
body, — both being in a morbid and diseased state, 
— did not consider it for their interest to call 
him, believing that to do so w^ould tell decidedly 
against their case. Mr. Webster replied that he 
w^ould decide upon that after an interview with 
the young man himself. They said tliat it would 
not do ; that they knew all about him ; that his 
father and mother said that it would not do; 
and that he was already in a very frightened and 
morbid state, for fear he should be called. " He 
has once attempted to take his own life," said 
the lawyers, " and they will question him about 
the matter, and he wdll show that his mind is 
not sound. We must make the best of our 
case by collateral and outside proof; and show, 
if possible, that his mind was sound enough to 
enable him to witness intelligently the signature 
of a will." " I shall see the young man," replied 
Mr. Webster, " and then I shall determine whether 
to call him or not." So he sent a messenger from 
the hotel to the residence of the young man's 
father, asking to see him. After an interview, 
he told the father that he wished to see the young 
man himself. The father was an intelligent, edu- 
cated man, and, after some pleasant conversation, 
he departed, appointing an hour for Mr. Webster 
to call at his house that evening. Mr. Webster 
said to Mr. Phelps that he must be allowed to 
deal in his own way with the young man, who had 
become somewhat frightened at the idea of being 
examined on the stand 



108 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

In the evening, Mr. Webster had an interview 
with young Phelps according to appointment. In 
describing him to me, Mr. Webster said : " He im- 
pressed me at once as a refined, gentlemanly, sen- 
sitive creature. When I attempted to draw him 
out in conversation, he was as timid as a child ; but 
by degrees I won his confidence, and put him at his 
ease. Then we talked about general topics, I lead- 
ing the conversation rather away from himself and 
his connection with the will case. I found him very 
pleasant and communicative ; and after I had talked 
with him for three-quarters of an hour, I gently 
referred to the pending trial and the part that he 
would have to take in it. I asked him if he could 
give me a history of his brief career in life ; and he 
immediately related to me one of the most inter- 
esting personal narratives to which I ever listened. 
He took me back to his earliest childhood, when he 
was the idol of his parents. They were very proud 
of him, and wished to educate him and put him 
forward in life. No lad at school could out-run or 
out-wrestle him ; his health was perfect ; he mas- 
tered his lessons with ease, and gave entire satis- 
faction to his teachers and parents. He soon 
and easily fitted for college ; entered Amherst at 
an early age, and was as contented and happy a 
young man as any in the world. But in his second 
college year he began to lose his health. His ap- 
petite failed, and he became dyspeptic. A rapid 
change took place in his whole physical condition. 
He became languid and Ustless, and took no inter- 
est in any thing. With all this came great depres- 



AT THE BAR. 109 

sion of spirits. It seemed to him as if every thing 
was a blank. As for life, it had no charms or joys 
for him. His father and mother were made un- 
happy by his changed condition, consulted physi- 
cians, took him to the mountains and the seashore ; 
but nothing gave him benefit. His disease seemed 
to be settled, but he kept on with his studies and 
took his degree. He grew unhappy and disconso- 
late, and shunned every one. In relating this part 
of his story, young Phelps could hardly suppress 
his emotions. He said to me : ' I do not think I was 
morally responsible for what I did, and I never 
think of it without a shudder ; but I threw my- 
self into the Connecticut River, in a fit of despera- 
tion, for the purpose of committing suicide. [Here 
he burst into tears.] For this act I prayed God to 
forgive me. I think he has, because I feel that 
I was not guilty of self-murder. That has weighed 
upon me ; but my health has lately improved, and 
I really feel more happy and contented.' After 
telling me this, we talked awhile about other 
things ; and, when about leaving, I told him that 
I wished him, the next day, when I should sum- 
mon him into court, to go there, and to consider 
me as his friend ; that I would allow no questions 
to be put to him, or any thing to be said, that 
would wound his feelings. 1 said : ' You have the 
sympathy of everybody ; and I wish you to tell, 
in answer to my questions, the story of your life as 
you have told it to me, merely to show to the jury 
and the court the condition of your mind. You 
may feel absolutely confident that nobody shall 



110 KEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

harm you.' He went into court the next day, and 
told the story so eloquently that there was hardly 
a dry eye in the court-room. He trembled as he 
spoke, yet with a touching, truthful manner that 
had its effect. I had told Mr. Choate that if he 
did any thing to wound the feelings of that young 
man, merely for the sake of a triumph in the case, 
I should consider it a cruelty which nothing could 
justify. Mr. Choate promised me that he would 
say nothing, consistently with his duty to his clients, 
to injure the young man's feelings; and he kept 
his promise. When the young man had told his 
story and left the stand, 1 felt secure in my case ; 
and it was won upon that single point. 

" This Phelps was the grandson of Chief Jus 
tice Parsons, who, although one of the greatest of 
lawyers, had, as he himself well knew, a streak of 
insanity in his mind. He laid down the law 
that should govern the decisions of the courts in 
Massachusetts in cases of insanity, — what should 
be testimony and what should not. The law of 
Chief Justice Parsons has been the law of the Mas- 
sachusetts courts from that day to this ; and that 
was the very law laid down by the court in deter- 
mining tliis case at Northampton," 

Mr. Webster continued : " There was another 
interesting incident about this Northampton case. 
I found out that the foreman of the jur^^ was a but- 
ton manufacturer, — a Mr. Williston, who had made 
a gift of fifty thousand dollars to Amherst College, 
and founded an academy at Easthampton on a like 
sum. There he sat, — this button-maker, — as 



AT THE BAH. HI 

meek as Moses, and tried this case. I discovered 
how he came to make his fortune out of the manu- 
facturing of buttons. He had purchased some 
cloth for a coat, and his wife was going to make 
it up. He bought, among other trimmings, some 
lasting buttons, and paid a certain price for them, 
— say, seventy-five cents a dozen. His wife asked 
him what he paid for them, and he told her. 
'Why,' said she, 'that is a large price; with 
button-moulds and a little lastino; I could make 
these buttons for a quarter of that price. If you 
will take these back and get some button-moulds, 
I will show you.' He did so, and she made some 
buttons which to all appearance were as good as 
those that he bought at the store. That led to the 
idea of his making buttons to sell. He began by 
employing a few girls, and carrying his buttons to 
the country stores and selling them. He found it 
a profitable enterprise. The business grew. He 
then employed machinery ; and now he is the 
greatest button-manufacturer in the United States. 
He has made an immense fortune, and employs 
very many hands and a great deal of machinery 
in making buttons." 

The following anecdote was related by Mr. 
Webster, in reference to his connection with the 
celebrated Dartmouth College case, in which the 
New Hampshire legislature attempted to interfere 
with the ancient charter of that institution ; in 
which, it may not be forgotten, Mr. Webster tri- 
umphed, by the decision of the United States su- 
preme court, confirming the claim of the college. 



112 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

While engaged in the case, Mr. Webster told the 
President that, as the original charter was granted 
and the endowment made by Lord Dartmouth ex- 
pressly for the purpose of civilizing and instructing 
the Indians, a question might arise on this point ; 
and as no Indian had been attached to the school 
for a long period, it would be well for the President 
to go into Canada, and bring some of the aborigines 
within the walls of the college, so that a jury could 
not find that the charter had been abrogated on 
that score. Accordingly the President went, and 
found three choice specimens, and brought them 
to the brink of the river ; and after some delay he 
procured a boat and began to ferry them across, — 
when the young Indians, not precisely understand- 
ing the object of so much kindness on the part of 
the President, and espying the walls of the college 
on the bank, had not only their wonder excited, 
but grew suspicious that, if once within those walls, 
it might be difficult to escape. Whereupon, the 
young Indian at the bow of the boat cast a signifi- 
cant glance at his associates, gave the war-whoop, 
and quick as thought they all plunged into the 
middle of the river, and swam for the shore. Said 
Mr. Webster : " The falling of the walls of Jericho, 
on the sounding of the ram's horn, could not have 
astonished Joshua more than this unlooked-for 
escapade of the Indians astonished the President. 
He hallooed, entreated, and tried to explain all ; 
but the Indians kept straight on their course to 
the shore, and made with all speed for the woods, 
— the last President Wheelock ever saw or heard 



AT THE BAR. 113 

of them." So Mr. Webster had to go on with the 
case without the Indians. This anecdote used to 
amuse him exceedingly ; and Judge Story would 
join in with his happy, light-hearted laugh, which 
only those who knew him can appreciate. 



CHAPTER V. 

AT THE BAR. — Continued. 

The orreat law cases in which Mr. Wehster en* 
gaged during his professional career were carefully 
studied, and the arguments, in every instance, were 
elaborately prepared. His briefs, notes, and mem- 
oranda prove this beyond a doubt. A large mass 
of legal documents still exist to testify to his dili- 
gence, research, and logical acumen. The papers 
belonging to each case are filed by themselves 
and properly labelled. The contents of some of 
these parcels have been carefully examined. The 
papers relating to the Dartmouth College case 
contain, — 

1. Notes on the arguments of Messrs. Holmes 
and Wirt ; topics of discourse, heads of their argu- 
ments, and authorities quoted by them are noted, 
Scarcely any reference contains more than one 
line ; and important points are marked by an 
index and underscored, to call attention to them. 
These memoranda were evidently made while 
those lawyers were speaking. 

2. In another parcel are found five sheets of 
letter-paper, closely written over with the main 



AT THE BAR. 115 

arguments employed by him in the New Hamp« 
shire court, in defence of the college charter, as a 
contract between the grantor and the grantees. 

3. A larger parcel, of fifteen sheets quite closely 
written over, seems to contain the substance of his 
plea in the United States court in that case. There 
are other papers containing abstracts of decisions 
from English authorities, and legal references re- 
lating to the subject. 

There are some hundreds of similar cases on file. 
They contain a rich treasure of legal research, 
learning, and argument. If published precisely 
as they are, they would be of great value to stu- 
dents at law, as showing how one of the ablest 
advocates of the age prepared and managed his 
cases. As he made notes of the arguments of the 
opposing counsel as well as of his own, the sub- 
stance of the reasoning on both sides is presented. 
These papers show how the mightiest champions 
of the forum were equipped for the contest ; with 
what spirit they entered the lists ; how bold and defi- 
ant were their challenges ; and what were the strong 
and weak points of assault and defence with each 
combatant. Such a study would be eminently in- 
structive to an inquisitive student, and not without 
practical utility to the mature advocate. It would 
be like learning the art of war from the study of the 
battle-grounds, strongholds, and warlike munitions 
of great armies. Thus the perils of actual partici- 
pation in the conflict would be avoided, and all the 
benefit of personal inspection secured. If some 
competent jurist should edit these papers, the whole 



116 RKMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTEU. 

legal life of Mr. Webster might be placed, as upon 
a canvas, before the reading public. It is well 
known that some of the most eloquent appeals he 
ever made were addressed to juries. No reporters 
were present ; of course, no traces of such brilliant 
passages remain, except in the meagre notes which 
he prepared before entering the court. Some of 
these sketches may be so full as to enable a con- 
genial spirit to clothe the skeletons with flesh, and 
give to arguments something of their original 
beauty and strength. 

Mr. Webster gave his first impressions of the 
English courts in a letter to Mr. Healy, of Boston. 
Writing from London, June 9, 1839, he says : 

" We arrived in London on the evening of the 
fifth instant. The sixth was rainy. 1 went out 
quite alone ; looked into all the courts, — the 
whole four were sitting. I saw all their venerable 
wigs. I stayed long enough to hear several gen- 
tlemen speak. They are vastly better trained 
than we are. They speak briefly. They rise, 
begin immediately, and leave off when they have 
done. Their manner is more like that of a school- 
boy, who gets up to say his lesson, goes right 
through it, and then sits down, than it is like our 
•more leisurely and deliberate habits. Sergeant 
Wilde, who is esteemed a long speaker, argued an 
insurance question in fifteen minutes, that most of 
us would have got an hour's speech out of. The 
rooms are all small, with very inconvenient places 
for writing, and almost nobody present except the 
wigged population. I went to the Parliament 



AT THE BAR. 117 

HoBses (Houses not in session). Their rooms are 
very small. The room where the Lords sit, I was 
sure must be the old ' Painted Chamber,' where 
the committees of conference used to meet. On 
entering it, I asked the guide what committee room 
that was. He turned to rebuke my ignorance, and 
exclaimed : ' This is the House of Lords.' I was 
right, however. The House of Commons was burnt, 
you know, some time ago, and the Commons now 
sit in what was the House pf Lords, and the Lords 
sit temporarily in the old ' Painted Chamber.* 
All these accommodations are small and inconven- 
ient. New buildings are in progress for the use 
of both Houses." 

In contrast with the description of the speaking 
in the London courts, Mr. Webster, in writing to 
Mr. Mason, in 1819, spoke as follows of the time 
occupied by American lawyers in arguing their 
cases in the supreme court of the United States : 

" To talk is so much the practice here, that, in 
the few cases I have, I find my attention wholly 
engaged in listening. We have, for instance, an 
equity case here from the Massachusetts district. 
Mr. Bigelow, Mr. Amory, and myself argued it in 
half a day in Boston. It comes up here on pre- 
cisely the same papers and the same points. We 
have now been two whole days upon it, and Wirt 
is not yet through for the appellee; and I have 
yet to close for the appellant. In Mr. Bell's case, 
Mr. Pinkney was near two hours in opening, and 
full four in the close." 

Mr. Webster's estimate of what constituted a 



118 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

good jurist may be learned from his frequent com- 
mendation of the men who, in his opinion, best 
deserved that distinction. In a letter to Mr. 
Blatchford, in 1849, he writes from the court- 
room : " Mr. B. R. Curtis is now speaking in reply 
to Mr. Choate, on the legal question. He is very 
clever. With very competent learning, his great 
mental characteristic is clearness ; and the power 
of clear statement is the great power at the bar. 
Chief Justice Marshall possessed it in a most re- 
markable degree ; so does Lord Lyndhurst. If to 
this character of clearness you add fulness and 
force, you make a man, whether as a lawyer, an 
historian, or indeed a poet, whose discourse or 
writing merits the application of those lines of 
unsurpassed beauty in Denham's ' Cooper's Hill • ' 

" ' Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull; 
Strong without rage; without o'erflowing, full.' 

1 think the judgment of Lord Mansfield came the 
nearest to this high standard." 

Mr. Webster soon confirmed his good opinion of 
Mr. Curtis by securing for him a seat upon the 
bench of the United States supreme court, for 
which his eminent talents and legal learning so 
well prepared him. He did not disappoint the 
expectation of his friends, but constantly gained 
golden opinions for his clear, full, and forcible 
decisions until his retirement from the bench. 

Mr. Webster's relations with and opinions of 
the eminent judges and lawyers of his time are 
worth recording ; and the following account of his 



AT THE BAR. 119 

intercourse with some of the most celebrated will 
prove interesting. 

One day, I had been asking him some questions 
about his controversy with John Randolph. It 
was said, 1 told him, that John Randolph had chal- 
lenged him. He replied that that was not true. 

" But," said he, " he sent Colonel Benton to me 
to know if I meant such and such things ; and I 
told him that I did not choose to be called to 
account for any thing I had said, and that I 
meant just what I said. It was evident that there 
was a purpose to have a row with me." 

" Of course," I remarked, " you would not ac- 
cept a challenge." 

" Of course not," said he ; "I despise the whole 
thing. I have given them something that was, 
perhaps, more disagreeable than buckshot." 

I asked him if he had ever, in those violent, 
troublous times, carried pistols. 

" No," said he, " I never did. I always trusted 
to my strong arms, and I do not believe in pistols. 
There were some Southern men whose blood was 
hot, and who got very much excited in debate ; 
and I used myself to get excited : but I never 
resorted to any such extremity as the use of 
pistols." 

" The nearest I ever came to a downright row," 
continued Mr. Webster, " was with Mr. William 
Pinkney. Mr. Pinkney was the acknowledged 
head and leader of the American bar. He was 
the great practitioner at Washington when I was 
admitted to practise in the courts there. I 



120 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

found Mr. Pinkney, by universal concession, the 
very head of the bar, — a lawyer of extraordinary 
accomplishments, and withal a very wonderful man. 
But with all that, there was something about him 
that was very small. He did things that one 
would hardly think it possible that a gentleman 
of his breeding and culture and great weight as 
a lawyer could do. He was a very vain man. 
One saw it in every motion he made. When he 
came into court he was dressed in the very extreme 
of fashion, — almost like a dandy. He would wear 
into the court-room his white gloves, that had been 
put on fresh that morning, and that he never put 
on again. He usually rode from his house to the 
Capitol on horseback ; and his overalls were taken 
off and given to his servant, who attended him 
Pinkney showed in his whole appearance that he 
considered himself the ureat man of that arena, 
and that he expected deference to be paid to 
him as the acknowledged leader of the bar. He 
had a great many satellites, — men, of course, 
much less eminent than himself at the bar, and of 
less practice, — who flattered him, and employed 
him to take their briefs and argue their cases, 
they doing the work, and he receiving the great- 
est share of the pay. That was the position that 
Mr. Pinkney occupied when I entered the bar 
at Washington. 

" I was a lawyer who had my living to get ; and 
I felt that, although I should not argue my cases 
as well as he could, still, if my clients employed 
me, they should have the best ability I had to give 



AT THE BAR. 121 

them, and I should do the work myself. I did not 
propose to practise law in the Supreme Court by 
proxy. I think that, in some pretty important 
cases I had, Mr. Pinkney rather expected that I 
should fall into the current of his admirers, and 
divide my fees with him. This I utterly refused 
to do. In some important case (I have forgotten 
now what the case was), Mr. Pinkney was em- 
ployed to argue it against me. I was going to 
argue it for my client myself. I had felt that, on 
several occasions, his manner was, to say the least, 
very annoying and aggravating. My intercourse 
with him, so far as I had any, was always marked 
with great courtesy and deference. I regarded 
him as the leader of the American bar : he had 
that reputation, and justly. He was a very great 
lawyer. On the occasion to which I refer, in some 
colloquial discussion upon various minor points of 
the case, he treated me with contempt. He pooh- 
poohed, as much as to say it was not worth while 
to argue a point that I did not know any thing 
about ; that I was no lawyer. I think he spoke 
of the ' gentleman from New Hampshire.' At any 
rate, it was a thing that everybody in the court- 
house, including the judges, could not fail to ob- 
serve. Chief Justice Marshall himself was pained 
by it. It was very hard," added Mr. Webster, " for 
me to restrain my temper, and keep cool ; but I 
did so, knowing in what presence I stood. I think 
he construed my apparent humility into a want of 
what he would call spirit in resenting, and as a 
sort of acquiescence in his rule. However, th* 



122 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

incident passed ; the case was not finished when 
the hour for adjournment came, and the court 
adjourned until the next morning. Mr. Pinkney 
took his whip and gloves, threw his cloak over his 
arm, and began to saunter away. I went up to 
him, and said very calmly, ' Can I see you alone 
in one of the lobbies ? ' He replied : ' Certainly.' 
I suppose that he thought I was going to beg his 
pardon and ask his assistance. We passed into 
one of the anterooms of the Capitol. I looked 
into one of the grand-jury rooms, rather remote 
from the main court-room. There was no one in 
it, and we entered. As we did so I looked at the 
door, and found that there was a key in the 
lock ; and, unobserved by him, I turned the key 
and put it in my pocket. Mr. Pinkney seemed 
to be waiting with some astonishment. I ad- 
vanced towards him, and said : ' Mr. Pinkney, 
you grossly insulted me this morning, in the 
court-room; and not for the first time either. In 
deference to your position and to the respect in 
which I hold the court, I did not answer you as I 
was tempted to do, on the spot.' He began to 
parley. I continued : ' You know you did : don't 
add another sin to that ; don't deny it ; you know 
you did it, and you know it was premeditated. It 
was deliberate ; it was purposely done ; and, if you 
deny it, you state an untruth. Now,' I went on, 
' I am here to say to you, once for all, that you 
must ask my pardon, and go into court to-morrow 
morning and repeat the apology, or else either 
you or I will go out of this room in a different 



AT THE BAR. 123 

condition from that in which we entered it.' I 
was never more in earnest. He looked at me, 
and saw that my eyes were pretty dark and 
firm. He began to say something. I interrupted 
him. ' No explanations,' said I : ' admit the fact, 
and take it back. I do not want another word 
from you except that. I will hear no explanation ; 
nothing but that you admit it, and recall it.' He 
trembled like an aspen leaf. He again attempted 
to explain. Said I : ' There is no other course. 
I have the key in my pocket, and you must 
apologize, or take what I give you.' At that he 
humbled down, and said to me : ' You are right ; I 
am sorry ; I did intend to blulf you ; I regret it, 
and ask your pardon.' ' Enough,' I promptly 
replied. ' Now, one promise before I open the 
door; and that is, that you will to-morrow morn- 
ing state to the court that you have said things 
which wounded my feelings, and that you regret 
it.' Pinkney replied : ' I will do so.' Then I 
unlocked the door, and passed out. The next 
morning, when the court met, Mr. Pinkney at 
once rose, and stated to the court that a very 
unpleasant affair had occurred the morning before, 
as might have been observed by their honors ; that 
his friend, Mr. Webster, had felt grieved at some 
things which had dropped from his lips ; that his 
zeal for his client might have led him to say some 
things which he should not have said ; and that he 
was sorry for having thus spoken. 

" From that day, while at the bar, there was no 
man," said Mr. Webster, " who treated me with 



124 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

SO ranch respect and deference as Mr. William 
Pinkney." 

" Just before Mr. Pinkney died," Mr. Webster 
went on to say, " we were trying a case in the 
Supreme Court, — I on one side, and he on the 
other ; and, as he finished his argument, I noticed 
that he was laboring under considerable pain. I 
was about to begin my reply, when he rose from 
his seat, having just thrown his cloak over him, ad- 
dressed the court, and said that if I would consent, 
and if the court would consent, he would beg it as 
a favor that the court should adjourn to another 
day ; as he was afraid that he should be utterly 
unable to remain and listen to my argument, which 
he really desired to hear very much. I acquiesced 
cheerfully, and so did the court ; and the case was 
adjourned for the day. I then went and spoke 
with Mr. Pinkney. He said he felt chilly all over, 
and had, he thought, a sort of ague shock. I 
helped him to adjust his cloak, and he drove to his 
lodgings. In forty-eight hours from that time Mr. 
Pinkney was dead, liaving been prostrated by a 
violent fever." 

It is remarkable that two of the ablest of Ameri- 
can lawyers should have made their last pleas in 
opposition to Mr. Webster. Mr. Emmet died with 
even less premonition than Mr. Pinkney, after hav- 
ing finished a brilliant reply to Mr. Webster. 

Mr. Pinkney once availed himself of Mr. Web- 
ster's ready memory in stating principles of law 
at the bar. Pinkney had, in this respect, all the 
assurance for which John Randolph was noted. 



AT THE BAR. 125 

Randolph, not too punctilious about giving credit, 
never hesitated to appropriate anybody's store of 
learning, when occasion offered. In a certain case 
in the Supreme Court, the lawyer opposed to Pink- 
ney made a glaring blunder in quoting authorities. 
Webster turned to Pinkney and whispered : " Black- 
stone's assertions are precisely the reverse." " Can 
you show me the place ? " asked Pinkney. " Oh, 
yes ; " and Mr. Webster passed into the court 
library, found the volume, and handed it to Pink- 
ney, open at the right quotation. Pinkney studied 
it attentively for some time ; then he laid the book 
carefully away. After his opponent had finished, 
Pinkney rose to reply. When he came to that 
part of his adversary's speech in which the mis- 
quoted passage occurred, he said : — 

"I am greatly surprised — if, indeed, my feel- 
ings are not of a stronger nature than surprise — 
at the manner in which the counsel for the plaintiif 
has laid down the law. There are some principles 
so universally admitted, and so elementary, — 
principles which the youthful student is taught at 
the very threshold of his instruction, — that no 
well-read lawyer could ever be supposed to be igno- 
rant of them, or to forget them. May it please the 
court, it is some years since I have looked at 
Blackstone, and perhaps, at my time of life, my 
memory may be at fault ; but, if I mistake not, 
your honors will find in the first volume, some- 
where about the one hundredth page, the follow- 
ing language." 

Then he recited, as if by difficult recollection 



126 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

slowly, and word for word, the exact language of 
Blackstone, which he had just before committed 
to memory. 

Mr. Wirt and Mr. "Webster were friends. When 
the former was attorney-general, Mr. Webster had 
occasion to call upon him. They sat opposite each 
other, engaged in conversation. There was a glass 
in the room, which, as Mr. Wirt raised his eyes, 
revealed to him whatever was going on behind 
him. One of his daughters, — a little girl of four 
or five years, — without knowing anybody was 
there, had pushed the door open to come into the 
library. She saw Mr. Webster's large figure, and 
hesitated. Mr. Wirt watched her face, and she had 
an expression something like fear ; but it was only 
for an instant. He saw her features relax as Mr. 
Webster looked at her ; and it was not two min- 
utes before Mr. Webster's arms were stretched out, 
and the child rushed into them. Mr. Wirt said this 
little incident touched him as much as any thing 
that ever occurred to him. He said to Mr. Web- 
ster : " This has revealed to me a trait of charac- 
ter I did not suppose you possessed. I thought 
you cold ; but I see a child knows where to find a 
warm heart." 

Mr. Webster had the most exalted opinion of 
Chief Justice Marshall. In a letter to his brother, 
in 1814, he says: "There is no man in the court 
who strikes me like Marshall. He is a plain man, 
looking very much like Colonel Adams, about 
three inches taller. I never have seen a man of 
whose intellect I had a higher opinion." 



AT THE BAR. 127 

Mr. Webster had a very high appreciation of 
Judge Shaw as a jurist. He once said to me : 
" Massachusetts is indebted to me for one thing, 
if for nothing else. I have been the cause of 
giving her a chief-justice to her highest court for 
more than a quarter of a century ; one unsur- 
passed in every thing that constitutes an upright, 
learned, and intelHgent judge. Massachusetts 
is indebted to me for having Judge Shaw at the 
head of her judiciary for thirty years ; for he 
never would have taken the place had it not 
been for me. When Levi Lincoln was governor, 
the vacancy occurred, and was to be filled. Shaw 
was then in a very large practice, yielding him 
fifteen or twenty thousand dollars a year ; and he 
had a growing family to maintain. Governor Lin- 
coln consulted me about filling the vacancy, and I 
said : — 

" ' Appoint Lemuel Shaw, by all means.' 

" ' But he w^on't take it,' said the governor. 

" ^ We must make him take it,' said I. 

" I approached him upon the subject. He was 
almost offended at the suggestion. 

" ' Do you suppose,' said he, ' that I am going, 
at my time of life, to take an office that has so 
much responsibility attached to it, for the paltry 
sum of three thousand dollars a year ? ' 

" ' You have some property,' I replied, ' and can 
afford to take it.' 

" ' I shall not take it under any circumstances,' 
was his answer. 

" I used every argument I could think of. I 



128 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

plied him in every possible way, and had interview 
after interview with him. He smoked and smoked, 
and, as I entreated and begged and expostulated, the 
smoke would come thicker and faster. Sometimes 
he would make a cloud of smoke so thick that I 
could not see him. I guess he smoked a thousand 
cigars while he was settling the point. He would 
groan and smoke. He declared, by all that was 
sacred, that he would resist the tempter. I ap- 
pealed to his patriotism. I said he was a young 
man, and should take it for that reason. A long 
judicial life was the only useful one to the State. 
His decisions would give stability to the govern- 
ment. And I made him believe that it was his 
duty, — as I think it was under the circumstances ; 
and the result has justified my conclusion. Al- 
though he accepted the office with the greatest re- 
luctance, he has filled it with unsurpassed ability ; 
and to-day there is not in the world a more up- 
right, conscientious, and able judge than Chief 
Justice Shaw. He is an honor to the ermine. 
For that, I repeat, the people of Massachusetts owe 
me a debt of gratitude, if for nothing else." 

Of Judge Sprague Mr. Webster had a very high 
opinion. He told me once that, of the members 
of the United States Senate, among the first as a 
debater was Peleg Sprague, of Massachusetts. " He 
is what 1 call a very eloquent man. He is able ; 
a man of great dignity ; and there is scarcely his 
superior in the Senate." 

George Blake was one of Mr. "Webster's par- 
ticular friends, although he was fifteen or twenty 



AT THE BAR. 129 

years his senior, and had pretty much retired 
from practice at the period of their intimacy. 
They were often, however, on opposite sides of 
cases. They lived in the same street (Summer), 
and there was a close friendship between their 
wives. Mrs. Blake was a very accomplished wo- 
man ; and Mr. Blake, who was very able as a 
lawyer, and a noted wit, had some striking pecu- 
liarities. One was a habit of audacious exaggera- 
tion in his statements, which seemed perfectly 
natural to him. He often said things which were 
never intended to be believed ; and his manner 
was always earnest. Mr. Webster used to relate 
many anecdotes of him with great gusto. 

He told me that, on one occasion, Mr. Blake 
went fishing in his boat, he being as fond of that 
sport as was Mr. Webster himself. Mr. Webster 
had been engaged in court, and had just reached 
home, when in came Mr. Blake's house-servant, 
bringing a splendid cod on a salver, with Mr. 
Blake's compliments. Mr. Webster asked what 
luck Mr. Blake had had. 

" First rate," replied the man; " he caught one 
enormous fish, — so big that we could hardly get 
him into the boat." 

" I suppose Mr. Blake was dehghted," said Mr. 
Webster. " What did he say ? " 

" Oh, he said he would give an ingot of gold if 
Webster was there to see it." 

Blake was a visitor at Marshfield in its early 
days, at a time when the guests were numerous, 
and they had to be quartered with lodgings in the 



130 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

neighboring farm-houses. This was in sinnmer, 
and Mr. Blake had his room at Porter Wright's 
house, a httle way off. One evening, at the man- 
sion, something was said about the next day. Be- 
sides the family, there were present the two Misses 
White, — one of whom afterwards married Fletchei 
Webster. Both were beautiful girls. Miss Ellen 
White remarked : — 

" To-morrow is my birthday." 

" And pray," said Mr. Blake, " may I be allowed 
to inquire how many summers have dawned on 
that beautiful brow ? " 

" Eighteen." 

" Eighteen summers ! I shall feel it not only a 
duty, but a very great privilege and a high obliga- 
tion, to commemorate the event. I shall do it in 
the first instance, by firing eighteen guns from my 
chamber window at sunrise to-morrow morning." 

Next morning he came into the house. 

"Aha!" said Miss White; "just what I sup- 
posed. The men are always very willing to prom- 
ise, but they are slow to fulfil their promises." 

He expressed a good deal of surprise. 

" You need not deny it," said she; "you prom- 
ised." 

" Yes, Blake," said Mr. Webster, " the young 
ladies have you. It's of no use ; you did not 
cover your retreat well." 

" Even in uncivilized communities," retorted Mr. 
Blake, " those who are accused of crime are in- 
formed, before judgment is pronounced, with what 
crime they are charged. I should Hke to know 



AT THE BAR. 131 

in what I have offended this very respectable 
family." 

" You have forgotten, Mr. Blake." 

"Forgotten! What?" 

" Why, did not you promise to lire eighteen 
guns this morning at sunrise from your chamber 
window, in honor of my birthday ? " 

" Do I remember ? Have I forgotten ? Can a 
mother forget her sucking child ? Forget a prom- 
ise made to you, Miss Ellen White ? Never ! " 

" But what have you to say for yourself ? " 

"I have this to say for myself: I did prom- 
ise most solemnly to fire eighteen guns from my 
chamber window this morning at sunrise, in honor 
of Miss Ellen White's birthday ; but I have not the 
slightest recollection of promising that you should 
hear them ! " 

Blake always had a fire in his library, even in 
July ; and people would come in and say, " What 
have you got a fire to-day for ? " It was rather 
hard work for him to find an excuse for this fire. 
One day, Mr. Webster was speaking of Professor 
Smith, who was at the head of the medical depart- 
ment of Dartmouth College, and a man of great 
intelligence and skill, both as a physician and sur- 
geon. He held the post rather as an honorary 
one, being a man of wealth. He was very benevo- 
lent, and performed operations gratuitously for the 
poor, spending much of his time in that way ; in- 
deed, Professor Smith gave the last ten years of his 
life to the poor. He was quite a friend of Mr. 
Webster, being an old acquaintance of his father 



132 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

Mr. Webster used to visit at his house, when in col« 
lege, and often attended his lectures. He said that 
he received a great deal of pleasure and instruction 
from the professor's society. On one occasion, 
Professor Smith, in talking about his experience 
with the diseases of the poor, said that he thought 
there was more suffering from want of proper ven- 
tilation than from disease itself. He added, that it 
had been very much impressed upon his mind that 
people did not know the value of good ventila- 
tion. He often had been called to cases of fevers 
and the like among poor people ; and, upon arriv- 
ing at the house, he would find, perhaps, nobody 
but a child in attendance, — the husband and sons 
being away at work. He had often, before even 
feeling the pulse of the patient, gone to the wood- 
shed, taken wood and split it up, carried it indoors 
in his own arms, built a fire, and thrown open the 
windows ; and he could see the patient begin to 
revive before he had thought of medicine. Ventila- 
tion he thought of the utmost importance in such 
cases. 

In speaking of this to Mr. Blake, Mr. Webster 
noticed that he took a great degree of interest in the 
story. He inquired very minutely about it ; and 
the next thing Mr. Webster knew, Blake was using 
this story as an excuse for always having a fire in 
his hbrary. When he was asked why he had it, 
he would say that " Professor Smith of Dartmouth 
College, — whom he knew very well, a very eminent 
man, — had told him that fires were absolutely nec- 
essary for the preservation of health, by producing 



AT THE BAR. 133 

ventilation. It was the professor's invariable prac- 
tice, when visiting sick patients, if he did not find 
any fire in the room, before he prescribed or felt 
the patient's pulse, to build a fire and throw up 
the windows. I have always felt it to be my duty 
to my health to keep a little fire to promote venti- 
lation." Mr. Webster said that Blake told this so 
many times that he probably at last actually came 
to believe that he was the person with whom Pro- 
fessor Smith had conversed on the subject. 

Blake, in speaking once of what he had seen in 
Paris, and on what a grand scale every thing was 
there, said : " You can't imagine it. I saw candles 
in the Palais Eoyal as big as the columns in front 
of the Tremont House (Boston) ; and some of them 
were fluted ! " 

Although Blake was a very eloquent talker, he 
had a hesitating sort of way. Mr. Webster told 
me that he had heard Blake argue a case, and try 
legal questions, with as much eloquence and ability 
as he ever heard from any man. He had no flu- 
ency, and would hesitate and stutter ; but the ideas 
and the language were very fine. Mr. Webster was 
very fond of Blake, for their tastes were quite simi- 
lar ; although, in the matter of exaggeration, they 
were as unlike as two men could be. Mr. Webster 
was a most exact man in all his statements, never 
overstating, and never straining an expression to 
make a flourish of speech. If he was arguing a 
case to a jury where there was a chance for lati- 
tude, he never enlarged on the truth. He kept 
everjbody down to the facts ; you had no chance 



134 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

to poetize with him. Blake's habit amused him 
very much. He used to say that he was surprised 
that any man should resort to it, and especially 
Blake, who was a man having ideas and logic and 
learning of his own. Still, they sympathized in 
their pleasures ; both were very fond of fishing 
and shooting, field sports, the country, and country 
life. Blake was a healthy man, with no bad habits ; 
a gentleman in the strict sense of the word. 

On one occasion, Mr. Webster was counsel in a 
case in which Blake was on the other side. The 
matter in dispute was the quality of a parcel of 
shoes. A down-east logging-man had made a con- 
tract for a large quantity of shoes ; but, upon re- 
ceiving them, thought they were not as good as the 
contract promised, and refused to pay for them. 
The man who made the shoes insisted upon having 
his money, and sued the defendant. Mr. Webster 
brought the suit for the shoe manufacturer, and 
Mr. Blake defended the purchaser. It became a 
matter of less moment in dollars and cents than of 
feeling, the fees being larger than the whole amount 
of the contract. Mr. Webster took occasion, in 
referring to the shoes, to remind the jury that it 
would be quite as safe for them, when they retired 
to deliberate on their verdict, to remember the 
testimony as it was given, rather than his learned 
brother's statement of it, as he was somewhat in 
the habit of exaggeration. Blake was always indig- 
nant at any allusion to his weakness, and this remark 
nettled him. He rose to reply, and said : — 

" The learned gentleman on the other side has 



AT THE BAR. 135 

seen fit to warn you against what he is pleased to 
term my habit of exaggeration. How, gentlemen 
of the jury, this may be in ordinar}^ cases it is not 
worth while now to stop to inquire. I might be 
ready to join issue with that distinguished gentle- 
man on that point; but in this case there is no 
occasion for it, because it is not in his power, with 
all his ability, to exaggerate this case. There is no 
language that I can use that can come up to the 
fact. The counsel has told you that these shoes 
were not only according to the contract, but that 
they were good shoes, and that they never wore 
out. I grant that the shoes never wore out ; but 
the poor unfortunate men who wore them, did ! 
And I will prove by indisputable evidence, to your 
entire satisfaction, that the unfortunate men could 
be traced for miles by the blood that ran from 
their feet by the action of the pegs that were put 
in those shoes ! " 

Whenever Mr. Webster and Mr. Blake went out 
fishing or hunting together, the latter betrayed a 
passion for excelling, and would boast of catching 
more fish or shooting more birds than his com- 
panion. They would take their bags and lines, and 
be gone for hours. On their return with the result 
of their day's sport, Blake would say : " Well, 
Webster, how many did you catch ? " Mr. Web- 
ster had a habit of answering by repeating, " How 
many did you catch ? " Blake would reply, setting 
the number pretty high, and Webster would then 
retort by stating a number a trifle less ; and that 
would satisfy Blake. Mr. Webster said to me : " If 



136 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

I bad told my gains after he had, and had named 
more, he would have been very unhappy. He 
would strain a point tremendously to get a superior 
position in this respect." 

One day I was going down Milk Street with Mr. 
Webster, and he suggested that he wanted to buy 
a chaise. So we went into Bayley's store ; and, 
while we were there, Blake came in. There were 
some very nice chaises in the store, and we looked 
them over. Blake finally said to me : " Do you 
suppose that Webster will buy one of these chaises ? 
If he does, it will break down before he gets to 
Marshfield. I have a chaise, Harvey, in my chaise- 
house, that I have owned for thirty years. Chaises 
that are made now-a-days aren't good for any thing. 
I would not give my chaise, thirty years old, for as 
many chaises like these as you could put between 
here and Worcester, thills under ! " 

Mr. Webster, on one occasion, was going to 
Marshpee brooks t? fish, with Blake, Isaac P. 
Davis, Ben Gorham, and Perkins. They went on 
horseback, leaving Boston in the morning, and 
arriving at night at Mrs. Hungerson's hotel in 
Plymouth, where they lodged. The next morn- 
mg they were to go on, and arrive early at the 
fishing-ground. But, when they rose in the morn- 
ing, it was raining ; in fact, it was an old-fashioned 
New England rainy day. Of course, that was the 
end of the sport so far as that day was concerned ; 
for they were on horseback, and could not com- 
fortably ride on in the rain. There was no fishing 
and no moving, and they took to whist. As only 



AT THE BAR. 137 

four were needed to make up the game, Mr. Web- 
ster, who was not fond of it, said : — 

" You play whist, and I'll read some of the hooka 
and briefs I have in my saddle-bags, and amuse 
myself in my way, while you amuse yourselves in 
yours." 

It was a little cold and raw ; he sat down by 
a table to study, and they to their whist. Mr. 
Webster could hear, at the same time, all their 
conversation. Isaac P. Davis and Blake were part- 
ners, with Perkins and Gorham on the other side. 
Blake was constantly scolding Davis. 

" What made you play the deuce of clubs ? " he 
would say. 

Mr. Davis would quietly answer, — 

" Play aw^ay, and don't get excited. I know 
what I am about." 

" Know what you are about ! I should like to 
know what upon earth possessed you to play the 
deuce of clubs ! " 

" Be quiet ; you'll see before we get through the 
game." 

" I shall see before we get through the game 1 
Why, you played the deuce of clubs ! It is barely 
possible that you may live long enough to give me 
a satisfactory reason for having played the deuce 
of clubs, — but I very much doubt it." 

Pretty soon they heard a tremendous thump on 
the old brass knocker of the door. Mr. Webster 
looked up, and saw that Blake was annoyed by the 
repeated knocks, to w^hich no one belonging to the 
house seemed to answer. Finally, Blake rose, with 



138 liEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

his cards in his hand, and pulled open the door. 
There sat a tall, stalwart yeoman, fully six feet 
high, on a horse about as large in proportion, the 
rain pouring down upon him without hindrance. 

" What do you want? " asked Mr. Blake. 

" I want to see Mrs. Hungerson." 

'' You want to see Mrs. Hungerson ! If you 
will please to get off your horse and come into the 
house, I have no doubt that you will be able to 
see Mrs. Hungerson." 

" I can't dismount, nohow. If I get off, I can't 
get on again." 

" So you can't dismount, nohow ? " said BlalvC, 
with a quizzical expression ; and he pulled the 
door open wide, so that the man could not get 
hold of the knocker, and left him standing there. 
The man, after waiting ten or fifteen minutes in 
vain, and receiving no further attention from any 
one, finally rode off in despair, and Blake then got 
up quietly and shut the door. 

It is always interesting to know what estimate 
men who have attained fame in intellectual pur- 
suits put upon their own powers, and to compare 
this with the estimate of others who have had 
good opportunities of observing them. In early 
life, Mr. Webster took a very modest view of his 
abilities and his prospects of professional success. 
His ambition was never fully aroused till Governor 
Gore advised him to refuse the clerkship. In his 
letters to his friends, written before this, he often 
spoke timidly and sometimes disparagingly of his 
legal attainments and prospects. He once spoke 



AT THE BAR. 139 

of a young lawyer who had not had a brilliant 
success, but whose degree of success would amply 
satisfy his own ambition. That lie was conscious, 
however, of the latent powers M'ithin him is seen 
by his writing for the papers in college, and deliv- 
ering a Fourth of July oration during his college 
term. He never shrank, moreover, even at that 
early age, from any responsibility that was laid 
upon him ; and whatever he undertook, he did 
well. This gained him distinction among his col- 
lege mates, who did not hesitate to predict great 
things for him. 

In 1802 he wrote to a classmate : — 

" The talent with which Heaven has intrusted 
me is small, very small ; yet I feel responsible for 
the use of it, and am not willing to pervert it to 
purposes reproachful or unjust, nor to hide it, like 
the slothful servant, in a napkin. If I prosecute 
the profession, I pray God to fortify me against its 
temptations. To the winds I dismiss those light 
hopes of eminence, which ambition inspired and 
vanity fostered. To be honest, to be capable, to 
be faithful to my cHent, I earnestly hope will be 
my first endeavor." 

When Mr. Webster, laboring under the affliction 
of an annual catarrhal cold, or hay fever, which 
was very painful to him, was obUged to keep his 
eyes shaded most of the time, and of course was 
unable to occupy himself in reading or writing, I 
used to go and sit with him, and read and talk to 
him. 

Speaking of his speeches, one day, I said : — 



140 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

" Mr. Webster, your speech in answer to Hayne 
has been read, I think, by more intelligent persons 
than any speech in the English language." 

" Oh, no," repUed he, " I think you must be mis- 
taken about that. You must remember that the 
speeches of English orators and statesmen were 
not reported, as ours are ; neither were the Eng- 
lish, to a great extent, a reading people. Every 
thing that is worth reading, and is eloquent, our 
people read." 

After a pause, he went on : — 

" Well, I don't know ; you may be right in that 
But that was not my best speech." 

I said that, if it was not the best speech, it had 
the greatest fame. 

" Well," said he, " I suppose it has. Neverthe- 
less, it was not, in my judgment, the best speech 
I ever made ; but, as a popular effort, it was un- 
doubtedly more read than any other speech." 

" What do you regard as your greatest speech ? " 
I asked. 

" My forensic efforts have been those which have 
pleased me most. The two arguments that have 
given me the most satisfaction were the argument 
in the ' steamboat case,' and the Dartmouth College 
argument. The steamboat case, you remember, 
was a question of the constitutionality of the right 
of New York State to give a monopoly to Fulton, 
and his heirs for ever, of the privilege of plying 
the waters of the Hudson with his steamboats. 
The value of such a right was not then and could 
not have been, from the nature of the case, fully 



AT THE BAR. 141 

understood. But it seemed to me to be ag<ainst 
the very essence of State rights, and a virtual 
dissokition of the Union in a commercial sense. 
If New York had a right to lay tolls upon her 
rivers for everybody that should pass, then all the 
other great international rivers and lakes would 
have the same right, and we could not be one as a 
commercial people. The people of New York felt 
that their rights were at stake in the contest ; and 
their great lawyers — and they had many of them 
— were engaged on that side ; the Livingstons 
and Clintons and others of like calibre. Mr. Wirt 
and myself were employed against the monopoly. 
When the case came to be argued before the 
supreme court at Washington, Chief Justice Mar- 
shall presiding, Mr. Wirt and myself met for con- 
sultation. Mr. Wirt asked me upon what grounds 
I based my case, upon what clause of the Consti- 
tution. He had a right to ask, as he was my 
senior in years and professional fame. My reply 
was, that the clause of the Constitution which 
ceded to the general government the right to 
regulate commerce was that upon which 1 based 
my defence. Mr. Wirt's reply to that was, that he 
did not see, in that line of argument, any ground 
for our case to rest upon. I said : ' Very well ; 
what is yours ? ' So he told me. I do not recol- 
lect what it was, but it was a totally different 
clause in which he found the grounds for his argu- 
ment. I said to him : ' Mr. Wirt, I will be as frank 
with you as you have been with me, and say that 
I do not see the shghtest ground to rest our case 



142 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

upon in your view of it.' ' Very well/ replied Mr. 
Wirt, ' let us each argue it in his own way, and we 
will find out which, if either, is right.' 

" The case came on for argument. Mr. Wirt 
made one of his brilliant arguments before the 
court. I followed with my view. 

" I can see the chief justice as he looked at that 
moment. Chief Justice Marshall always wrote 
with a quill. He never adopted the barbarous 
invention of steel pens. That abomination had 
not been introduced. And always, before counsel 
began to argue, the chief justice would nib his 
pen ; and then, when every thing was ready, pull- 
ing up the sleeves of his gown, he would nod to 
the counsel who was to address him, as much as to 
say, ' I am ready ; now you may go on.' 

" I think I never experienced more intellectual 
pleasure than in arguing that naval question to a 
great man who could appreciate it, and take it 
in ; and he did take it in, as a baby takes in its 
mother's milk. 

" The result of the case was just this : the opin- 
ion of the court, as rendered by the chief justice, 
was little else than a recital of my argument. The 
chief justice told me that he had little to do but to 
repeat that argument, as that covered the whole 
ground. And, which was a little curious, he never 
referred to the fact that Mr. Wirt had made an 
argument. He did not speak of it once." 

Then Mr. Webster added : — 

" That was very singular. It was an accident, I 
think. Mr. Wirt was a great lawyer, and a great 



AT Tlir: BAR. 143 

man. But sometimes a man gets a kink, and doesn't 
hit rio'ht. That was one of the occasions. But that 
was nothing against Mr. Wirt." 

When Mr. Webster visited Savannah, in 1847, 
Hon. J. M. Wayne, one of the judges of the Su- 
preme Court, w^elcomed him. His address contains 
the following paragraph, illustrative of Mr. Web- 
ster's influence before the most august tribunal in 
the United States. Judge Wayne thus addressed 
him : — 

"When the late Mr. Thomas Gibbons deter- 
mined to hazard a large part of his fortune in test- 
ing the constitutionality of the laws of New York, 
limiting the navigation of the waters of that State 
to steamers belonging to a company, his own inter- 
est was not so much concerned as that of the right 
of every citizen to use a coasting license upon the 
waters of the United States, in whatever way his 
vessel was propelled. It was a sound view of the 
law, but not broad enough for the occasion. It is 
not unlikely that the case would have been decided 
upon it, if you had not insisted that it should be 
put upon the broader constitutional grounds of 
commerce and navigation. The court felt the ap- 
plication and force of your reasoning, and it made 
a decision releasing every creek and harbor, river 
and bay, in our country from the interference of 
monopoUes, which had already provoked un- 
friendly legislation between some of the States, 
and which would have been as little favorable to 
the interests of Fulton as they were unworthy of 
his genius." 



144 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

One of the judges who made the decision here 
admits their indebtedness to Mr. Webster for the 
Hberal and enlarged views of the Constitution of 
a sovereign State which the exigencies of the case 
required. Every man in the country was person- 
ally interested in a decision which might have been 
in accordance with the partial views of State legis- 
lation, had not Webster's logic demolished the tem- 
ple of their idolatry. Even the learned court might 
not have comprehended the full importance of the 
question to be adjudicated, had not the " Defender 
of the Constitution " poured light upon their wait- 
ing minds by his unanswerable arguments. I have 
often heard Mr. Webster say that he regarded this 
decision as fraught with more vital consequences to 
the welfare of the commerce of the United States 
than any other ever made. 

It was in the conversation just referred to that I 
repeated to Mr. Webster an eloquent extract from 
one of his speeches. Mr. Webster turned toward; 
me, and with a half -smile said : — 

" That is pretty fine ; did I say all that ? " 

" You did, sir." And I mentioned the occasion 

to him.^ 

" Yes," said he, " and I got that impression as I 
stood on the walls of Quebec for the first time ; 
and, casting an imaginary glance over the broad 

1 The passage referred to was in a speech delivered in the Senate, 
May 7, 1834, on the "Presidential Protest." It was as follows: "A 
power [the British] which has dotted over the surface of the whole 
globe with her possessions and military posts; whose morning drum- 
beat, followuig the sun, and keeping company with the hours, circles 
the earth with one continuous and unbroken strain of the martial airs of 
England." 



S 



AT THE BAR. 145 

extent of that dominion, thought of the magnitude 
of the power that governed half a civihzed globe 
by her superior intellect. And I was proud," he 
added, " that the blood of the Englishman flowed 
ill my veins ! " 

It may be worth while to add to these reminis- 
cences of Mr. Webster's legal career Rufus Choate's 
opinion of him as an advocate. No man knew better 
how to address a court or jury than Rufus Choate ; 
he was most persuasive, forcible, and eloquent. 
He often met Mr. Webster as an adversary, and 
could judge well of his legal powers. Mr. Choate 
said of him : — 

"He spoke with consummate ability to the 
bench ; and yet exactly as, according to every 
sound canon of taste and ethics, the bench ought 
to be addressed. He spoke with consummate 
ability to the jury ; and yet exactly as, according 
to every sound canon, that totally different tri- 
bunal ought to be addressed." 

Mr. Webster always treated the bench with the 
studied deference which judges, by reason of their 
office, should command from the bar. On one occa- 
sion, Mr. Webster was engaged in a case in a New 
York court, in w^hich he was preceded by John Van 
Buren. In the course of his speech, Mr. Van Buren 
rather flippantly congratulated the court on " yield- 
ing to the popular impulses of the day." Mr. Web- 
ster began his reply by complimenting his opponent 
on " the talent and legal knowledge of his address." 
He then went on to speak with strong censure of 
Mr. Van Buren's remark about " yielding to popu* 

10 



146 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

lar impulses." "■ This," said Mr. Webster, " may 
be a compliment ; but it is a compliment which I 
Avould not address to this court, nor to any court 
for which I entertained a feeling of respect " 



CHAPTER VI. 

PUBLIC LIFE. 

The public career of Daniel Webster, as states- 
man and orator, is too well known to need detailed 
repetition in these pages. The record of it exists 
in the volumes of his speeches and in the work of 
his able and chosen biographer. The most lofty and 
brilliant passages of his addresses, whether witliin 
or outside of the halls of Congress, are familiar to 
every schoolboy throughout the land ; while no 
historical sketch, however slight, of the political 
history of this country during the past half a cen- 
tury, could omit giving testimony, by a recor.i of 
his many public acts, to his inestimable value as a 
statesman and an adviser in the national councils. 

A few dates marking events in liis public life, 
however, may serve to lend new interest to the 
mformal personal recollections which follow. 

Mr. Webster was first chosen a Representative 
to the national House of Representatives by the 
Portsmouth (N. H.) district, and took his seat in 
May, 1813, while the nation was still engaged in 
war with Great Britain. He was re-elected in 
1815; and, at the end of his second term, retired 
for a while from public office, removing to Boston 



148 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

during the interval. In 1822, he was once more 
elected to Congress, as a representative of Boston. 
He continued in the lower House of Congress from 
1822 to 1827, when he was chosen a United States 
Senator from Massachusetts for the full term of six 
years. Re-elected in 1833, and again in 1839, he 
retired from the Senate in 1841 to accept the office 
of Secretary of State under President Harrison. 
In 1839, he made a brief tour in Europe. Upon 
the accession of President Tyler, Mr. Webster, 
unlike the rest of the Harrison Cabinet, remained 
in office ; and, in 1842, he concluded the famous 
treaty with Lord Ashburton, defining the north- 
east boundary between the United States and 
Canada. Retiring from the State Department 
shortly after, he remained in private life until 
1845, when Massachusetts once more sent him to 
the Senate. He was a member of that body dur- 
ing the eventful period of the Mexican War, and 
during the administration of President Taylor. 
Upon the latter's death, in 1850, Mr. Webster 
succeeded John M. Clayton as Secretary of State, 
and became the leading member of President Fill- 
more's Cabinet. In this high office death found 
him. 

Mr. Webster was several times a prominent can- 
didate for the Whig nomination to the Presidency 
of the United States. He was brought before the 
country as a Presidential candidate, in 1834, by 
the Massachusetts Whigs. In 1S40, he was a for- 
midable competitor of General Harrison ; and, in 
1844, of Henry Clay. In 1848, he once more 



PUBLIC LIFE. 149 

contested the nomination at Baltimore. Again, in 
1852, and for the last time, his name was conspicu- 
ous among those who were in the field for the choice 
of the Whigs, at Baltimore, when the nomination, 
greatly to Mr. Webster's disappointment and dis- 
gust, was finally awarded to Winfield Scott. 

These facts being stated, I proceed to give such 
recollections as I have preserved of various inci- 
dents and opinions relating to his public career. 

Beyond all doubt, Mr. Webster's greatest and 
most renowned oratorical effort was his speech in 
reply to Robert Y. Hayne of South Carolina, deliv- 
ered in the Senate on Tuesday, the 26th of Janu- 
ary, 1830. Mr. Webster was fond of dwelling 
upon this speech and the incidents connected with 
it, and prided himself very much upon the recep- 
tion it met. 

I heard Mr. Everett, in Mr. Webster's presence, 
relate an incident connected with the reply to 
Hayne, which is worth repeating. 

Mr. Everett did not hear the Hayne speech, to 
which Mr. Webster was to reply. " There was," he 
said, " a very great excitement in Washington, 
growing out of the controversies of the day, and the 
action of the South ; and party spirit ran uncom- 
monly high. There seemed to be a preconcerted 
action on the part of the Southern members to 
break down the Northern men, and to destroy 
their force and influence by a premeditated on- 
slaught. 

" Mr. Hayne's speech was an eloquent one. as all 
know who ever read it. He was considered the 



150 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER, 

foremost Southerner in debate, except Calhoun, 
who was Vice-president and could not enter the 
arena. Mr. Hayne was the champion of the South- 
ern side. Those who heard his speech felt much 
alarm, for two reasons ; first, on account of its elo- 
quence and power, and second, because of its many 
personalities. It was thought by many who heard 
it, and by some of Mr. Webster's personal friends, 
that it was impossible for him to answer the speech. 

" I shared a little myself in that fear and appre- 
hension," said Mr. Everett. " I knew from what 
I heard concerning General Hayne' s speech, that 
it was a very masterly effort, and delivered with 
a great deal of power and with an air of triumph. 
I was engaged on that day in a committee of which 
I was chairman, and could not be present in the 
Senate. But, immediately after the adjournment, 
I hastened to Mr. Webster's house, with, I admit, 
some httle trepidation, not knowing how I should 
find him. But I was quite reassured in a moment 
after seeing Mr. Webster, and observing his entire 
calmness. He seemed to be as much at his ease 
and as unmoved as I ever saw him. Indeed, at 
first, I was a little afraid from this that he was not 
quite aware of tlie magnitude of the contest. I said 
at once : — 

" ' Mr. Hayne has made a speech ? ' 

" ' Yes, he has made a speech.' 

" ' You reply in the morning ? ' 

" ' Yes,' said Mr. Webster ; ' I do not propose to 
let the case go by default, and without saying a 
word.' 



PUBLIC LIFE. 151 

*^'Did you take notes, Mr. Webster, of Mr. 
Hayne's speech ? ' 

" Mr. Webster took from his vest pocket a piece 
of paper about as big as the palm of his hand, and 
repUed, ' I have it all : that is his speech.' 

" I immediately rose," said Mr. Everett, "and re- 
marked to him that I would not disturb him longer ; 
Mr. Webster desired me not to hasten, as he had 
no wish to be alone ; but I left. 

" The next morning when I entered the Senate 
Chamber and listened to his reply, of course that 
was an end of apprehension. The speech was such 
a triumphant answer, such a complete refutation, 
not only in the judgment of friends but of foes, 
that it left nothing to be wished for." 

In connection with this Hayne speech, Mr. 
Webster once told me this incident. 

I was riding with him one morning in 1846 or 
1847, to attend a cattle fair at Dedham, when the 
conversation turned on different ways of preparing 
speeches. He said that no man who was not in- 
spired could make a good speech without prepara- 
tion ; that, if there were any of that sort of people, 
he had never met them. He added that it had 
often been remarked that he had made no prepa- 
ration for the Hayne speech. 

" That was not quite so," said he. "If it was 
meant that I took notes and studied with a view to 
a reply, that was not true ; but that I was thor- 
oughly conversant with the subject of debate, from 
having made preparation for a totally different pur- 
pose than that speech, is true. The preparation for 



152 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

my reply to Hayne was made upon the occasion of 
Mr. Foot's resolution to sell the pubhc lands. Some 
years before that, Mr. McKinley, a senator from 
Alabama, introduced a resolution into the Senate, 
proposing to cede the public domains to the States 
in which they were situated. It struck me, at that 
time, as being so unfair and improper that I imme- 
diately prepared an argument to resist it. My 
argument embraced the whole history of the pub- 
lic lands and the Government's action in regard to 
them. Then, there was another question involved 
in the Hayne debate. It was as to the right and 
practice of petition. Mr. Calhoun had denied the 
right of petition on the subject of slavery. In 
other words, he claimed that, if the petition was 
for some object which the Senate had no right to 
grant, then there was no right of petition. If the 
Senate had no such right, then the petitioners had 
no right to come there. Calhoun's doctrine seemed 
to be accepted, and I made preparation to answer 
his proposition. It so happened that the debate 
did not take place, because the matter never was 
pressed. I had my notes tucked away in a pigeon 
hole ; and, when Hayne made that attack upon me 
and upon New England, I was already posted, and 
only had to take down my notes and refresh my 
memory. In other words," said Mr. Webster, " if 
he had tried to make a speech to fit my notes, he 
could not have hit it better. No man is inspired 
with the occasion ; I never was." 

There are many anecdotes about what took place 
between Mr. Hayne and Mr. Webster, and among 



PUBLIC LITI: 153 

them a great many absurdities. I had read a hirge 
number of these stories ; and I asked Mr. Webster 
about the truth of them. Mr. Webster repHed : 

" Not one of them is true." 

He said, however, that it was true that, when he 
had finished his speech, some Southern member, 
whose name he did not mention, approached him 
cordially and said : — 

" Mr. Webster, I think you had better die now, 
and rest your fame on that speech." 

Mr. Hayne was standing near and heard the 
remark, and said : — 

" You ought not to die : a man who can make 
such speeches as that ought never to die." 

Mr. Webster met General Hayne at the Presi- 
dent's reception on the evening of that day, and, 
as he came up to him, Mr. Webster remarked 
pleasantly : — 

" How are you to-night ? " 

" None the better for you, sir," was the General's 
humorous reply. 

General Hayne remained only a short time in 
public life after that debate. He seems to have 
lost all taste for the Senate after his signal discom- 
fiture. He visited Mr. Webster at Marshfield. 
Their personal relations were always kindly and 
affectionate, and these were never disturbed. 

While Mr. Webster was Secretary of State, under 
President Fillmore, a young clergyman, who was 
visiting the White House, sought his society when- 
ever he dined there. Once, this clergyman hap- 
pened to be seated next to Mr. Webster. After 



J54 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

dinner. Mr. Webster entered into a free conversa- 
tion, and the young clergyman made bold to ask 
him whether the Hayne speech was really, as had 
been asserted, extemporaneous. 

" Oh, no," replied Mr. Webster ; " the materials 
of that speech had been lying in my mind for 
eighteen months, though I had never committed 
my thoughts to paper, or arranged them in my 
memory." 

He was then asked about other speeches of his, 
which were said to have been delivered on the 
spur of the moment, or at brief notice. 

Mr. Webster opened his large eyes, with appar- 
ent surprise, and exclaimed : — 

" Young man, there is no such thing as extem- 
poraneous acquisition." 

The word " acquisition " was exceedingly well 
chosen. Mr. Webster knew that there was extem- 
poraneous speaking every day. What he evidently 
intended to convey was, that knowledge could not 
be acquired without study ; that it did not come 
by inspiration or by accident. 

While the whole country was resounding with 
the praises of his reply to Hayne, Mr. Webster 
seemed almost unmoved by them, and to be scarcely 
conscious of the great forensic victory he had 
achieved. In reply to a letter congratulating him, 
from Warren Button, he wrote as follows, on the 
8th of March, 1830 : — 

" I thank you for your friendly and flattering 
letter. Your commendation of my speech was 
measured less by its merits than by your bounty. 



PUBLIC LIFE. 155 

If it has gratified my friends at home, I am re- 
warded for any little trouble it has cost me. The 
whole debate was a matter of accident. I had left 
the court pretty late in the day, and went into the 
Senate with my court papers under my arm, just 
to see what was passing. It so happened that Mr. 
Ilayne rose in his first speech. I did not likn it, 
and my friends liked it less. I never spoke in the 
presence of an audience so eager and so sympa- 
thetic. The public feeling here w^as on our side 
almost invariably." 

A gentleman, who enjoyed Mr. Webster's con- 
fidence, hearing him on one occasion praising 
Marshall, King, Gore, Mason, and other friends 
of his, when he first entered Congress, expressed 
the opinion that Mr. Webster's fame would outlive 
them all, and that his speeches, especially the one in 
reply to Hayne, would be read in the schools when 
all that they had said would be forgotten. Mr. 
Webster replied with much feeling : — 

" That, my friend, is a partial speech, dictated 
by your kindness and generosity. Still, I do 
not pretend to be unaware that my humble 
efforts to serve my country have been useful, and 
will probably influence many minds in years to 
come." 

Writing to William Plumer, in April, 1830, Mr. 
Wabster thus refers to the Hayne speech : — 

" If my speech has done, or shall do, the slight- 
est good, I shall be sufficiently gratified. I am 
willing to confess that, having the occasion thus 
forced upon me, I did the best I could, under its 



156 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

pressure. The subject and the times have given 
it a degree of circulation, to which its own merits 
would not have entitled it. Connected with this 
subject, one good thing, excellent and most im- 
portant, will ere long be made known. At pres- 
ent, it is locked up in confidence. All I can say 
is — and I would not have this repeated, except, 
perhaps, to your father — that the world will one 
day, perhaps a not distant one, know Mr. Madison's 
sentiments on these constitutional questions, fully 
and precisely ; together with his understanding of 
the Virginia Resolutions of 1797-98. It will be an 
important paper." 

The allusion to Mr. Madison's opinions refers, 
with little doubt, to a highly laudatory letter 
which he wrote to Mr. Webster after the reply to 
Hayne. 

In another letter, written soon after the debate, 
Mr. Webster said : — 

" You are very civil in what you say about my 
speech. It has made much more noise than it 
deserved. The times favored its impression." 

It is related that Judge Story called on Mr. 
Webster on the evening previous to the delivery of 
the speech, and, after expressing some anxiety as 
to the result of the debate, offered to aid him in 
looking up materials to be used in his reply. Mr. 
Webster thanked him, and said : " Give yourself 
no uneasiness, Judge Story ; I will grind him as 
fine as a pinch of snuJff ! " 

Apropos to Mr. Webster's oratorical powers, 
certainly no one could have been a more critical 



rUBLIC LIFE. 157 

judge of tliem than that other and only less cele- 
brated orator, Edward Everett. Mr. Everett once 
said to me, that nothing impressed him more 
with Mr. Webster's extraordinary talent, than the 
speeches be delivered when making his trip over 
the Erie Railroad. 

" I took pains," said Mr. Everett, " to read every 
speech he made, from the time that he left Wash- 
ington till he got back to New York. He made 
eleven speeches, distinguishing between speeches 
and mere snatches of remarks at stations. They 
were made when he was well advanced in years, 
and probably every one of them was extempora- 
neous. He could not have known, when he went 
out of the cars to the platform, what he was going 
to say, and yet every one of them was singularly 
adapted to the place and occasion ; indeed, each 
speech was so complete, that, if he had intended 
only to make any one, and had carefully prepared 
it, it could not have been improved. Every one of 
those eleven speeches — and I have read them care- 
fully — would have added greatly to the reputation 
of any other man in the United States : made as 
they were without preparation, they impressed me 
more than any thing else with his extraordinary 
capacity." 

One day I was repeating to Mr. Webster some 
extracts from one of his speeches, when he inter- 
rupted me, saying, — 

" Why, you know more about my speeches than 
I do. I never read them. I once undertook to 
read my eulogy on Adams and Jefferson ; but I 



158 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

choked up, and could not go on. You are more 
familiar with them than I am." 

I once heard Mr. Webster make an amusing 
comparison, apropos of the criticisms which so 
freely assailed his " 7th of March " speech. We 
were on State Street one day, and I proposed that 
we should go into the North American Insurance 
office, and see who was there. 

We found, among others, Benjamin Rich and 
Caleb Loring. After some general conversation, 
Mr. Rich said : — 

" Mr. Webster, they are assailing you about your 
7th of March speech ; I hope you will say some- 
thing in your defence." 

Mr. Webster smiled, and replied : — 

" I knew an old deacon down in Connecticut, — 
a pious, good old man, — who shared the fate of 
many other good men in being slandered without 
cause. He took no notice of the accusations made 
against him, but as they were uncontradicted 
they spread ; and, by being repeated from mouth 
to mouth, of course they lost nothing, and finally 
came to the minister's ears. The rumors began 
to be spoken in an audible voice. At last his 
pastor went to him, and said : ' They are saying 
so and so about you. I don't suppose it's true, 
but why don't you say something to deny it?' 
The old deacon replied : ' I always make it a rule 
never to clean out the path till the snow has done 
falhng.' I am of the deacon's way of thinking ; 
and I don't think I shall clean out the path till it 
has done snowing." 



PUBLIC LIFE. 159 

Speaking of bis purpose in making the 7th of 
March (1850) speech, Mr. Webster wrote to a 
friend in September of that year : — 

'' Long before General Taylor's death, I made 
up my mind to risk myself on a proposition for a 
general pacification. I attempted to sound two 
New England men, but found them afraid. I then 
resolved to push my skiff from the shore alone, 
considering that, in such a case, if I should be 
foundered, there would be but one life lost." 

Mr. Webster had a habit, as the reader may have 
already observed, of illustrating his ideas and 
opinions by happy anecdotes and comparisons ; 
and these he used in regard to serious as weU as 
unimportant matters. He would often charac- 
terize the political situation of the hour by this 
device, hitting the mark exactly. This faculty is 
well shown in what he said to Mr. Crowninshield 
about the troubles in the Jackson administration, 
in 1832. The administration appeared to be on 
the point of breaking up in confusion. General 
Jackson had quarrelled with Mr. Calhoun, the Vice- 
president, and difficulties had occurred in the Cabi- 
net. It looked as if the Government would soon 
come to a dead-lock. Mr. Crowninshield's son, a 
young man, was visiting Washington, where his 
father was serving as member of Congress from 
the Essex district. The father and son were riding 
up to the Capitol one morning, when they observed 
Mr. Webster walking in the same direction. Mr. 
Crowninshield the elder told his coachman to stop, 
and asked Mr. Webster to take a seat in the car- 



l(jO REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

riage. He did so, and on the way the conversation 
turned on existing troubles. 

" How is the administration going to get along, 
Mr. Webster ? " asked Mr. Crowninshield. " What 
is to be the result of these difficulties ? The Presi- 
dent and Vice-president are not on speaking terms ; 
the Secretary of the Treasury has resigned, and 
there is a general state of anarchy." 

" Well," replied Mr. Webster, " I hardly know. 
Did you ever see, in the country, an old rickety 
sled, loaded with green wood to the tops of the 
stakes, creaking and shrieking along over the 
cradle-holes, at which you look with amazement 
that it does not fall to pieces ? But, somehow or 
other, it gets to its place of destination, unloads 
its wood, and goes back for another load. I think 
the old thing will rub along somehow j but how, I 
don't know." 

Mr. Webster became Secretary of State under 
General Harrison, in 1841. They had no interview 
before he was appointed. It was done by corre- 
spondence ; by an offer of the place on the part 
of General Harrison by letter, and acceptance by 
letter on that of Mr. Webster. They did not meet 
until eight or ten days previous to the inaugura- 
tion. General Harrison arrived at Washington, 
from Cincinnati, about the time Mr. Webster ar- 
rived from Massachusetts. Mr. Webster was in- 
vited by Mr. Seaton, one of the editors of the 
" National Intelligencer," and a very warm per- 
sonal friend of his, to come to his house, as he 
would be more quiet there, and less exposed to 



PUBLIC LIFE. JCl 

intrusion than at a hotel ; and to stay until ho 
should get a house and move his family into it. 
He was constantly occupied with General Harrison 
on matters connected with the formation of the 
Cabinet, from early morning until the dinner hour, 
which was six o'clock. It seems that he had pre- 
pared an inaugural message for General Harri.son. 
One day, among other arrangements, he suggested 
to the new President, in as delicate a way as he 
could, the fact that he had sketched an inaugural, 
knowing that General Harrison would be over- 
whelmed with calls and business after his election, 
and he himself having leisure to write. The Gen- 
eral at once replied that it was not necessary ; that 
he had prepared his own inaugural. 

" Oh yes,'' said he, " I have got that all ready." 

" Will you allow me to take it home and read it 
to-night? " asked Mr. Webster. 

" Certainly," the President replied ; " and please 
to let me take yours." 

So they exchanged the documents; and the 
next morning, when they met. General Harrison 
said to Mr. Webster : — 

'• If I should read your inaugural instead of mine, 

everybody would know that you wrote it, and that 

I did not. Now, this is the only official paper 

which I propose to write, for I do not intend to 

interfere with my secretaries ; but this is a sort 

of acknowledgment on my part to the American 

people of the great honor they have conferred 

upon me in elevating me to this high office ; and 

although, of course, it is not so suitable as yours, 

11 



162 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

still it is mine, and I propose to let the people 
have it just as I have written it. I must deliver 
my own instead of yours." 

Mr. Webster told me that he was a good de<il 
annoyed ; because the message was, according to 
his judgment and taste, so inappropriate. It en- 
tered largely into Roman history, and had a great 
deal to say about the States of antiquity and the 
Roman proconsuls, and various matters of that 
kind. Indeed, the word " proconsul " was repeated 
in it a great many times. 

When he found that the President was bent 
upon using his own inaugural, Mr. Webster said 
that his desire was to modify it, and to get in some 
things that were not there, and get out some things 
that were there ; for, as it then stood, he said, it had 
no more to do with the affairs of the American gov- 
ernment and people than a chapter in the Koran. 
Mr. Webster suggested to General Harrison that he 
should like to put in some things, and General 
Harrison rather reluctantly consented to let him 
take it. Mr. Webster spent a portion of the next 
day in modifying the message. Mrs. Seaton re- 
marked to him, when he came home rather late 
that day, that he looked fatigued and worried ; but 
he replied that he was sorry that she had waited 
dinner for him. 

" That is of no consequence at all, Mr. Webster," 
said she ; " but I am sorry to see you looking so 
worried and tired. I hope nothing has gone wrong. 
I really hope nothing has happened." 

" You would think that something had hap- 



PUBLIC LIFE. 1()3 



pened," he replied, " if you knew Avliat 1 have 
done. I have killed seventeen Roman jn^ocoiisuls 
as dead as smelts, every one of them ! " 

Perhaps the othcial act with which Mr. Webster's 
name was most prominently connected, which called 
forth more adverse criticisms on the one hand, and 
more encomiums on the other, than any other of his 
public life, was the negotiation of the so-called Ash- 
burton treaty. This he negotiated Avhile Secretary 
of State in President Tyler's Cabinet. The object 
of the treaty being to define certain boundaries 
between the United States and the British posses- 
sions in America, Lord Ashburton was sent to this 
country for the purpose, and came in great state 
in an English man-of-war. I recall one incident 
relating indirectly to that treaty, in which a dis- 
tinguished rival statesman bore a conspicuous but 
not very pleasant part. 

General Cass was our minister at the French 
Court at the time the Ashburton treaty was nego- 
tiated and ratified. He had been sent to Paris by 
Mr. Van Buren ; and he was not recalled on the 
accession of General Harrison. General Cass was, 
in his owm estimation and that of his friends (and 
this opinion was afterwards confirmed by the act 
of the National democratic Convention), the promi- 
nent Democratic candidate for the Presidency. He 
took occasion, just before asking his recall from 
Mr. Tyler's administration, to make a written pro- 
test to the State department against the provisions 
of the treaty ; although he, not being the minister 
accredited by the United States to the nation with 



164 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

whom the treaty was made, had really no business 
with it. Everybody saw that it was done for polit- 
ical effect at home. There were many criticisms 
on the treaty ; among others, that it made too 
o-reat concessions to Enojland : and General Cass 
seemed to have the idea that any thing said in 
hostility to England would be popular at home. 
So he made this elaborate protest, and addressed 
it to the Secretary of State, and asked to be re- 
called, giving, as his reason, that he could no longer 
be of use to his country abroad. 

He came in one of the British steamers to Bos- 
ton. I remember it well. A great demonstration 
was made in his honor by the Democratic politicians. 
He had been absent several years in France. He 
was a very prominent public man. He had been 
in Jackson's Cabinet, possessed large wealth and 
wide political influence, and was one of the leaders 
of his party. He spent a day or two in Boston. 
He was surrounded by the leading Democrats, 
prominent among whom was Mr. Bancroft. Gen- 
eral Cass took occasion to say confidentially to Mr. 
Bancroft, that he had written a despatch to Mr. 
Webster about the Ashburton treaty, protesting 
against its provisions ; which letter, if it were ever 
pubHshed, would overwhelm Mr. Webster with 
obloquy. " Most hkely," said General Cass, " he 
will take very good care of this sort of official 
despatch, and keep it buried in the department ; 
but if it should come out, it would cover him with 
humiliation." So delighted were Mr. Bancroft 
and his friends, that they did not hesitate to tell 



rUBLIC LIFK. IG'J 

it in their circles, and spoke of it ns sonielliing 
wliich was going to overwhelm Mr. Webster with 
confusion. 

It seems that the despatch had been received at 
tlie State department a fortnight or three weeks 
before General Cass returned ; and that Mr. Web- 
ster had replied to it, and sent that reply to Gen- 
eral Cass at Philadelphia, that being the point 
where he thought he would be most likely to re- 
ceive it. To General Cass's great astonishment, 
his letter to Mr. Webster, and Mr. Webster's reply 
to it, were soon after published in the official organ 
at Washington. Mr. Webster's reply to General 
Cass's protest was one of the most powerful pieces 
of irony that was ever addressed by one man to 
another. It put him in a light in which no one 
would care to be held up. General Cass, when he 
got the reply, saw at once where it placed him ; 
that it made him almost a laughing-stock, instead 
of overwhelming Mr. Webster wdth confusion. A 
leading Democrat and politician, one of Cass's 
friends, said to me : — 

" What a fool he was to attack Webster ! No 
matter whether he was right or wrong ; the man 
who attacks Webster in correspondence has got to 
have the worst of it, anyhow. I never," he added, 
" saw a man so completely overwhelmed." 

When General Cass went to Washington to pay 
his respects to the Secretary of State, and was re- 
ceived by him, he said to Mr. Webster : — 

" I have read your reply, and it has overwhelmed 
me. It is more than I can bear ; it is terrible." 



166 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

" It is no more so," replied Mr. Webster, " than 
the circumstances warrant. In the first place, the 
whole tone and purport of your despatch was en- 
tirely out of place ; it was none of your business 
to protest against the Ashburton treaty, any more 
than it was that of any private citizen. The Con- 
stitution places the treaty-making power in the 
hands of the President of the United States and 
the Senate. The President made the treaty, and 
the Senate ratified it by a decided majority ; and 
that was the end of the matter. What you had 
to do with it, Heaven only knows; I cannot see." 

" Well, now, Webster," said General Cass, " as 
to a friend, I say to you that I cannot afford to 
have the thing rest there ; I shall be filled with 
mortification, and shall be the laughing-stock of 
the country. What I want you to do, is to let 
me reply to your despatch, and to agree in advance 
that you will not rejoin." 

" Your request is entirely inadmissible," returned 
the Secretary ; " it cannot be. This is a public 
matter ; if it were a mere personal matter, it would 
be different. You began a correspondence with 
me which makes an assault on my official character 
as Secretary of State, and a reply is made to it to 
show the absurdity of your propositions ; and then 
you ask to throw back a shaft at me, and beg that 
I will not defend myself. No, I cannot do aiiy 
thing of the kind." 

" Well," said General Cass, " let me write you a 
letter and show it to you, and you may fix it in 
any way you please." 



PUBLIC LIFE. 167 

'* I cannot do it," replied Mr. Webster ; '' if you 
reply to my despatch, you must do it officially, and 
I shall, if it requires an answer, give you one ; if 
not, I shall not answer it. You can judge of that 
as well as I." 

General Cass did reply to it, but very tamely. 
Mr. Webster made a rejoinder, in a very short 
note, and demolished it completely. 

When Lord Ashburton came to this country to 
negotiate the treaty known by his name, Mr. Web- 
ster wished, after settling the boundary question, 
to discuss the question of the right of search. He 
said to me that he had long wished for an opportu- 
nity to express his views, in a way that would have 
weight, on that long-disputed subject. Nothing 
had surprised him more than the failure, on the 
part of eminent American statesmen, to get at 
the real point of that controversy. 

" Even John Quincy Adams," said he, " with all 
his knowledge of diplomacy and international law, 
failed, I think, to meet the case ; and if he failed 
to meet it, it would be pretty hard for anybody 
else to meet it, for he was exceedingly apt in 
those things. Mr. Adams talked about latitudes 
and longitudes : that conceded away the whole 
case. In my judgment, there was but one course, 
— flatly to deny the right. Nothing short of that 
would meet the trouble. That is the only ground 
to take. Every ship that sails the ocean must find 
its protection in its flag. Well, when I proposed, 
after the boundary question was done with, to settle 
this disputed question, Lord Ashburton said he did 



168 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

not wish me to write him any letters on that sub- 
ject. Consequently, the despatch which I wrote 
on the right of search was sent to our minister to 
present to the English minister. Mr. Everett was 
then our envoy to the Court of St. James. He told 
me that he read the despatch to the Earl of Aber- 
deen, who was foreign secretary, and who was a 
tough-headed, bluff old Scotchman. As usual, he 
did not pay much attention at first to the reading ; 
but finally he became interested, and, interrupting, 
said : ' Won't you read that again, Mr, Everett ? ' 
He did so, and, as soon as he had finished reading. 
Lord Aberdeen asked for a copy of the despatch. 
* Mr. Everett,' said he, ' that American Secretary 
of State writes very extraordinary papers. That 
is a remarkable document. The argument in that 
paper cannot be answered. Mr. Webster has got 
the right of it.' Mr. Everett of course enjoyed the 
compliment very much ; and, after parting from 
the Earl of Aberdeen, he received a note from him 
requesting that he would please consider their 
conversation private and confidential. The next 
time they met, the Earl said : ' I have not altered 
my opinion about that despatch. It has been be- 
fore her Majesty's ministers, and they say it must 
be answered ; but I do not know who is going to 
answer it.' And Lord Aberdeen was right : the ar- 
gument is unanswerable. There was no very extra- 
ordinary ability in my paper, but the common sense 
of the thing was apparent. The English govern- 
ment turned round and attempted to say : ' Then, 
you will allow your flag to be desecrated to the 



PUBLIC LIFE. 169 

practices of piracy. A suspicious lookiug craft 
may be sailing under the flag, and a cruiser may 
have every reason to suppose that she is a pirate, 
and she cannot be brought to.' Now, I claim no 
such thing as that. If there is a robber in a man'a 
house, and you break down the doors and go in, 
and find you have got a robber, you are all right ; 
but, if you find that he is not a trespasser, you 
must pay the damage : and that is precisely what 
I say in this matter. You can stop and search this 
supposed pirate ; and if she is a pirate, and has as- 
sumed a flag that does not belong to her, then let 
her be dealt with as such. But suppose it turns out 
that you were mistaken ; that she is no pirate, but 
a la\vful ship, pursuing her voyage for her owners 
wdth regular papers, and that the cruiser was mis- 
taken. What then ? Pay the damage, just as you 
would do in any other case of trespass. That is 
the distinction. If you had the right to stop every- 
body, it would kill all commerce." 

This despatch of Mr. Webster was never an- 
swered. He said : " There is one thing you may 
rely upon. The English government have never 
answered that despatch of mine den^dng the right 
of search, because they cannot. The common 
sense of the thing settles that. But they will, 
perhaps, never admit it either. The English 
minister will not probably sit down and write a 
despatch, saying that he is convinced that the Eng- 
Hsh view is wrong. But they will never again 
attempt to exercise the right of search. When the 
issue arises again, they will abandon it." And the 



170 REMISISCENCKS OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

result has so proved. During Mr. Buchanan's ad- 
ministration, the question did come up ; and when 
our Government called England to account for 
attempting to exercise the right of search, they 
hastened to disclaim it, and at once gave orders to 
their cruisers not to touch any ship sailing with 
the American flag. They apologized to our Gov- 
ernment, and declared that the vessels which had 
been engaged in searching American ships had 
transcended their orders. The question was settled 
by Mr. Webster, and not by the Buchanan admin- 
istration. He said to me : " That thing is settled. 
I have had letters from English statesmen, admit- 
ting to me that the right of search was out of the 
question, and that they could do no less than yield 
the point. My argument could not be answered, 
and the English government would not practically 
attempt to enforce it." 

After the election of General Taylor to the Presi- 
dency, the members of the Massachusetts Electoral 
College met, as usual, to have a dinner, — the 
practice being then for the Suffolk elector to give a 
dinner to the other members of the college. There 
had been a good deal of excitement. The electors 
for Suffolk and Middlesex were Albert Fearing and 
Isaac Livermore, both of whom were pretty active 
politicians. They agreed to unite in giving the 
dinner, and to invite the active pohtical men in 
the city and State to attend it. I think there 
were one hundred and twenty plates laid at the 
Tremont House for this occasion. Mr. "Webster 
was on the point of leaving for Washington ^vdth 



PUBLIC LIFE. 171 

his family, he then being a Senator. He was in- 
vited by Mr. Fearing to be present at this dinner. 
It was inconvenient for Mr. Webster to remain in 
town, but he was strongly urged both by Mr. 
Fearing and myself ; and at last he said : — 

" I will make a sacrifice of my personal conven- 
ience, and accept your invitation. Besides, if I 
did not go, it might be said that I was not satisfied 
witli the election of General Taylor, which is not 
the fact. I am quite glad that he is elected, al- 
though I think it was a nomination not fit to be 
made. I am glad of his election, if he is a Whig, 
as I trust he is." 

At the dinner he sat at Mr. Fearing's right, and 
of course he was the first person called upon to 
respond to a toast. He made one of his conver- 
sational, sensible speeches, in which he referred 
to the occasion that had called the assembly to- 
gether, — to cast their votes for a Whig President ; 
saying that the event was a subject of congratula- 
tion to the Whigs of Massachusetts ; that, however, 
when General Taylor was nominated, considering 
that he never had been in public life, that he was 
not even a civilian, nor a man whose views on the 
great national issues were well known, he (Web- 
ster) had felt some doubts about the General's fit- 
ness for the Presidency ; but that he had no doubt 
General Taylor was a man of honor, and that hav- 
ing accepted the nomination of the Whig party, and 
l^een elected by them, he would now carry out their 
views. He believed him to be an honest man, and 
the more he had heard of him since his election, 



172 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

the better pleased he was with him. He wound 
up by saying, that, whether in pubHc or in private 
Hfe, General Taylor's administration, if governed 
by the principles which brought it into power, 
should have his cordial support. " There is no 
more contented man," he added, " around this 
board or in Massachusetts, than I am." Great ap- 
plause followed, and speeches were then made by 
some of the high officials present, among whom 
were the judges of the Supreme Court. Governor 
Briggs was present and made a speech, in which 
he took occasion to say that his pleasure in the 
result of the election was not unalloyed ; that if 
they could have been there to congratulate one 
another upon throwing the electoral vote for their 
own great statesman, who, he believed, would have 
received the votes of the United States if he had 
been nominated, he should have been glad ; that 
when he thought they might have had a man so 
fitted and so deserving, it somewhat marred the 
pleasure of the triumph to a Massachusetts man. 
This was received with loud cheers, and the 
speakers who followed seemed to be animated 
by the same feeling of regret, — that they could 
not congratulate Massachusetts upon the eleva- 
tion of her own great son and statesman to this 
office. A great many speeches were made, and 
after a while it came the turn of Mr. Abbott 
Lawrence. 

He rose, and said : — 

" Gentlemen, I rise to address you, and to ex- 
press my feehngs, with different sentiments from 



PUBLIC LIFE. 173 

those of the gentlemen who have preceded me. 
My candidate is in. I repeat, that I have no re- 
grets; for my candidate is in. Gentlemen now 
say they have found out that General Taylor is a 
Whig, and a man of ability, integrity, and honesty. 
I knew it at the time. I had the evidence in my 
pocket that General Taylor was not only a Whig 
but a man of ability, of the sternest integrity, and 
of the highest patriotism ; and I say here now, 
from my acquaintance with General Taylor, and 
from the evidence I have in my pocket, that it is 
my firm opinion, — asserted with all the responsi- 
bihties that belong to my position and to what I 
say, — that, since General Washington, the father of 
his country, filled the Presidential chair, no more 
worthy or fit person has been selected to fill that 
chair than General Zachary Taylor." 

There were a few hisses and a general feeling 
of annoyance. The table was in an uproar, and 
everybody looked at Mr. Webster. It seemed to 
be a direct insult to him. He sat at the head of 
the table, with his head resting on his hands. 
His son Fletcher spoke to me, and said : — 

" I hope father will say something ; " and went 
round to speak to him. 

Mr. Webster said to him : — 
" I think I will speak before I leave." 
After Mr. Lawrence sat down, Mr. Fearing rose 
and said that their illustrious guest was about to 
retire, as he had a long journey to make on the 
next day ; but, before leaving, he would propose a 
sentiment. Every one listened with intense inter- 



174 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

est and even excitement, as Mr. Webster rose with 
a majestic grace, and said : — 

" I am about to propose a sentiment to which I 
know every gentleman here present will respond 
with all his heart. I am about to propose to you, and 
do now propose to you, this sentiment : The State 
of Massachusetts — the Bay State — the State that 
contains within its borders Boston, Concord, Lexing- 
ton, Bunker Hill, and Faneuil Hall — the mother 
of States — the Revolutionary State ! It is fit and 
proper on all occasions, when any considerable num- 
ber of the sons of Massachusetts are assembled for 
any festive purpose, especially on an occasion like 
this, that they should not fail to remember, with 
feelings of deep gratitude and affection, this ancient 
and venerable Commonwealth ; that they should 
repeat the vow to stand by her and her interests. 
Mr. Chairman and gentlemen, I was not born on 
the soil of Massachusetts ; I am not a native of 
the old Commonwealth : but Massachusetts early 
adopted me, and for an unprecedented length of 
time, in a public capacity, has adhered to me with 
a fidelity and warmth of affection that calls for my 
most hearty acknowledgments. For it I thank 
her, now and always. On more than one occasion, 
she has expressed for me, in resolutions and in 
other forms, her desire that I should fill that office, 
— the highest in the gift of any people. For that 
I thank her, now and always. On one occasion, 
she has given to me her vote in the College of 
Electors, assembled as you are to-day. For that 
I thank her. On a recent occasion, through her 



VLB Lie LIFi:. 175 

accredited organs, at a national convenliun com- 
posed of Whigs, she has expressed her unanimous 
preference for me for that office. For that I 
thank her ; ay, and honor her, too, most pro- 
foundly. She could have done nothing less, let 
me say, consistently with her own self-respect and 
honor. My friends, you will bear me witness that 
I seldom speak of myself ; but there are times 
when a public man may so speak. I say here and 
now, that I am quite aware that I am a man of 
considerable public importance, not only within 
the boundaries of Massachusetts, but without her 
boundaries, and throughout the length and breadth 
of this continent. [Great shouting.] I took occa- 
sion, when you did me the honor and kindness to 
call on me before, to express my respect for and 
confidence in General Taylor; and to say that 
I believed he was an honest man and a Whig, and 
that I trusted he would surround himself with men 
of ability and experience, and would administer 
the government upon Whig and national prin- 
ciples ; that, from what I had learned of his char- 
acter — which was very little — as a public man, 
previous to his being nominated for this office, I 
considered him an honest man. I have said that, 
with the aid of the abler men whom he may call 
around him, he may administer the government on 
Whig principles ; and I have further said that, so 
far as my influence goes, it shall be given in sup- 
port of his administration, if it is so conducted. 
Having said this nuich, I will not so far forfeit my 
self-respect as to say that I think tliis man fitted 



176 reminiscencp:s of daniel webster. 

for this high trust. He is not fitted for it. He 
lays claim to no high qualifications himself. No 
intelligent man lays any such claim for him." 

Great shouting and some hisses followed this 
speech. 

During the month of June, after the inaugura- 
tion of President Taylor, I drove, in company with 
Mr. Webster, from Washington to the Virginia 
shore, to a place called " the Falls." As we were 
passing through Alexandria, Mr. Webster ordered 
the coachman to stop ; and, pointing to an old and 
decaying mansion, he said : — 

" That large white house, with dilapidated walls 
and broken fences, was the hotel where I boarded 
when I first entered Congress from New Hamp- 
shire. It was then the Federal headquarters. 
Governor Gore, Rufus King, and John Marshall 
were fellow-boarders. Governor Gore used to 
drive out of that gate in a coach drawn by four 
horses, and attended by servants in livery." 

After proceeding thus far, Mr. Webster seemed 
to be lost in a profound reverie, and apparently 
sohloquizing, he exclaimed : — 

" All gone ! All gone ! They were extraordi- 
nary men. We shall never see their like again ! 
Our country has no such men now ; but they are 
gone ! all gone ! I shall soon follow, and I care 
very little how soon.*' 

He was deeply affected, even to tears. Being 
quite excited by the scene, I attempted to awaken 
more pleasing emotions in his mind. After a brief 
pause, I said to him : — 



PUBLIC LIFE. i < / 



'' I know that you will give me credit for sin- 
cerity in what I am about to say, for neither my 
taste nor my sense of propriety would allow me to 
address flattery to you. You will pardon nie, I 
trust, while I express my decided conviction that, 
when future generations shall pass those places 
which your residence or your eloquence has ren- 
dered immortal, their reverence for your name and 
character will as far exceed that awakened by the 
memory of the men you have named, as their 
character transcends that of ordinary men." 

He turned toward me his burning eyes, still 
suffused with tears, and laying his hand upon my 
arm, he said : — 

" That is very strong language. A part of it 
must be attributed to your partiality and warm 
friendship. Still," he added, " I am not unaware, 
— and it would be affectation in me to deny it, — 
that I have a public reputation to leave to posterity ; 
but it has been earned with difficulty ! If I were 
to live my life over again, with my present experi- 
ence, I would, under no circumstances and from 
no considerations, allow myself to enter public life. 
The public are ungrateful. The man who serves 
the public most faithfully receives no adequate re- 
ward. In my own history, those acts which have 
been, before God, the most disinterested and the 
least stained by selfish considerations, have been 
precisely those for which I have been most freely 
abused. No, no ! have nothmg to do with politics. 
Sell your iron ; eat the bread of independence ; 
support your family with the rewards of honest 



ITS REMINISCENCi:S OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

toil ; do your duty as a private citizen to your 
country, — but let politics alone. It is a hard life, 
a thankless life. Still, I know it has its compen- 
sations. There are some green spots, occasional 
oases in the life of a public man ; otherwise we 
could not live. The conviction that the great 
mass of the intelligent and patriotic citizens of 
your country approve of well-directed efforts to 
serve them is truly consoling. That confidence 
on the part of my fellow-citizens, I think I pos- 
sess. I have had, in the course of my official life, 
— which is not a short one, — my full share of 
ingratitude ; but the unkindest cut of all, the 
shaft that has sunk deepest in my breast, has been 
the refusal of this administration to grant my re- 
quest for an office of small pecuniary consideration 
for my only son." 

He then straightened himself up, and, with con- 
scious dignity, added : — 

" I have not deserved such treatment. I have 
served my country too long and too assiduously to 
receive such a slight from this administration. 
However, let us say no more about it ; the whole 
thing is too contemptible to claim from me a mo- 
ment's thought. Drive on, Dennis ! " cried he to 
the coachman. 

In all Mr. Webster's long public life, he very 
rarely asked the Government for favors for himself 
or friends. He often interceded for those who 
asked his aid in securing offices for themselves ; 
indeed, a very large portion of the letters left on 
file by him are petitions of all sorts of people for 



PUBLIC LIFE. 170 

places of trust and profit supposed to he in his gift, 
or to be commanded by his influence. It would 
appear from this correspondence tliat, when men 
M'ant offices, they make personal applications for 
them ; that most men who obtain executive pat- 
ronage secure it by their own importunity ; and 
that men who thus apply for places of power 
always hold a high opinion of their own quali- 
fications. Sometimes the request for office is a 
general one, indicating a willingness to serve their 
country in any capacity that will secure them a 
competency. Sometimes anxious mothers, with 
the garrulity of dotage, ask for appointments for 
their promising sons, bearing ample testimony to 
their qualifications for any desirable place in the 
gift of the Government. Again, some amiable wife, 
unfortunately wedded to an inefficient husband, 
begs of a friend at Washington to call on the Sec- 
retary, and ask for some office. In some instances, 
ambitious young men ask for the secret of the Sena- 
tor's success in life, alleging that they have taken 
him for their model, and desire most earnestly that 
he would give them some rules for the regulation 
of their conduct, that they may attain to a like 
eminence with himself. 

A very large number of these letters are simply 
complimentary, originating, evidently, from every 
variety of motive. Some persons, though entire 
strangers, are moved by an overpowering sympa- 
thy with Mr. Webster's expressed opinions, or by 
unfeigned admiration of his oratory, to reveal to 
him their secret worship, and offer to him the 



180 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

incense of cordial approval. Others wish to force 
themselves into notice, and condescend to patronize 
a great man's sentiments. Others, high-minded 
and honorable men, express their approbation of 
the conduct of a public man, from patriotic motives, 
because they verily believe that he is doing hia 
country noble service. 

Mr. Webster was exceedingly averse to direct 
personal applications for office. His general rule 
was never to petition for himself or his friends. 
His sentiments on this point frequently appear in 
his correspondence. In a letter to Mr. Ketchum, 
in 1848, he says : — 

" Sometimes members of Congress obtain an 
influence with the Executive by assiduity and im- 
portunity. These are not accordant with my 
habits. I could volunteer no advice; and, in the 
course of things, my advice would be seldom 
asked, notwithstanding I might be on friendly 
t«rms with the President." 

At the time of the difficulty in New Orleans 
with the Spanish consul, Don Calderon de la 
Barca was the minister plenipotentiary residing at 
Washington. The controversy had been pretty 
much settled between the two Governments, by 
diplomatic notes. Don Calderon, wishing to do 
something to make himself important to his Gov- 
ernment, called one day on the Secretary of State 
to present the claims of the Spanish consul for 
pecuniary remuneration. He gave his own account 
of the interview to a third person. He said : " I 
did call on Mr. Webster; I did make a fonnal 



PUBLIC LIFE. 181 

demand upon the government of the United 
States for pecuniary compensation for the losses 
sustained by the Spanish consul, by the mob. I 
stated my complaint and demand. I did it with 
precision and force. When I got through, what 
do you think Mr. Webster said to me ? He rose 
from his chair ; he made me one bow, and he said : 
' Good morning, Don Calderon ; good morning^ 
Don Calderon ; good morning ; ' and I did leavf 
the room ! " 

The French minister asked Mr. Webster, while 
Secretary of State, whether the United States 
would recognize the new government of France 
under Louis Napoleon. The Secretary assumed a 
very solemn attitude, saying : "Why not? The 
United States has recognized the Bourbons, the 
Republic, the Directory, the Council of Five Hun- 
dred, the First Consul, the Emperor, Louis XVIIL, 
Charles X., Louis Philippe, the — " " Enough, 
enough ! " cried the French minister, perfectly 
satisfied with such a formidable citation of consis- 
tent precedents. 

Mr. Webster was making a short visit to Marsh- 
field in 1851, the year after he delivered his 7th of 
March speech ; and the citizens of Boston, without 
distinction of party, invited him to a meeting in 
Faneuil Hall, where they might receive him, and 
take him by the hand. He had reluctantly ac- 
ceded to this request. Mr. Choate was to address 
him on the part of the citizens. The preliminaries 
had been arranged as such things always are, the 
day fixed, and the formality gone through — which 



182 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

was regarded as only formality — of procuring a 
petition of a hundred signers for the use of the 
Hall on that day. The proposed reception was 
openly announced ; and it was arranged that Mr, 
Webster should be received by the citizens without 
distinction of party, and be addressed by Mr. Choate 
on their behalf. We sent our petition to the Mayor 
and Aldermen, at their Monday meeting : Thursday 
was the day fixed for the reception. On Tuesday 
morning, what was our astonishment, on looking at 
the proceedings of the Mayor and Aldermen, to 
find that they had voted that the citizens who had 
petitioned should not have the Hall for the desired 
purpose. Upon inquiry, it was ascertained that 
the reason given was, that Wendell Phillips and 
the Abolitionists having asked for the Hall, and it 
having been refused to them by the city govern- 
ment, for fear of a riot, they therefore could not 
consistently grant the Hall to any one else. 

I do not think I ever knew so much indignation 
expressed by people of all shades of politics, as 
there was on this occasion. There was one perfect 
storm of indignation. When the Mayor and Alder- 
men found out what the feeling was, they were 
about as severely frightened as any class of official 
men that I ever knew. They undertook by cards 
in the papers to explain their action. They said 
that there was no disrespect intended to Mr. Web- 
ster and his friends, and all that. However, there 
was the significant fact that Faneuil Hall had been 
refused to Mr. Webster and his friends, and it must 
go out to the country and the world. All classes 



I'UBLIC LIFE. 183 

of people were expressing their opinions. Some 
were for doing this, and others for doing that, and 
all sorts of propositions were made. 

I felt that Mr. Webster would see the exact po- 
sition of the thing, and that his own judgment 
would dictate to him the course to pursue. Mr. 
Choate sent for me, and said : — 

'' Of course this thing will be given up. Mr. 
Webster will place these people in the position in 
which they should be placed. The city govern- 
ment of Boston undertakes to compare him and 
his friends with the Abolitionists and Garrisonites, 
and, because the Hall was refused to them, they 
refuse it to Mr. Webster and his friends. It shows 
the character and calibre of the city government 
of Boston. The only thing Mr. Webster has to 
do, — and I don't think he will need any advice on 
the subject, — will be to throw himself upon his 
dignity, as his friends certainly will." 

I had spoken to Fletcher Webster, who lived 
near his father, and who was going out on the two 
o'clock train, and asked him to communicate to his 
father all the facts. I told Mr. Choate that he had 
better write a note in the mean time, and give it to 
Fletcher, which he did ; and there we rested it. 

But Mr. Choate came to my house when I was 
at dinner, about three o'clock, and said : — 

•' I think you had better go down. Fletcher has 
gone down and carried the note ; but I think your 
presence will be the best explanation you can give. 
For I think Mr. Webster will feel very badly, and 
he cannot know but that this action of the city 



184 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

government represents the citizens. But you can 
assure him that it represents only a paltry handful 
of men. He will be very unhappy if you don't." 

I acted upon his advice, took the four o'clock 
train, and went to Kingston. The weather was 
very stormy. It was the beginning of the great 
storm which continued three days, and carried 
away the Minot-Ledge Lighthouse. I was at Mr. 
Webster's when the Lighthouse was swept away. 
When I reached his house in Marshfield, it was 
raining in torrents. I jumped out upon the piazza, 
and, as I passed opposite the window, I looked in ; 
and, noticing Mr. Webster sitting by the open fire 
in his dressing gown, and Mrs. Webster at the 
centre-table in the rear, I could not help pausing a 
moment before I went in, to gaze upon the picture. 
I saw upon his face an expression of deep thought. 
I rang the bell. Mrs. Webster did not wait for 
the servant, but came to the door herself. As 
soon as she saw me, she lifted up her hands, and 
exclaimed : — 

" Is it possible that you have come, our good 
angel ? Did you drop down from heaven in the 
clouds ? How did you come from Boston ? Where 
is your horse ? " 

*' The horse has gone back to Kingston," I replied. 

As for Mr. Webster, I have often been received 
by him with great cordiality, but I do not think 1 
ever saw him so delighted to see me as he was 
then. His demonstration was very marked, and 
he used the most kind and endearing expressions. 

" Now," said he, " before you say a single word, 



PUBLIC LIFE. 185 

you must just take off your coat, for yon are wet, 
I know ; and you must take off your boots ; " and 
he pulled them off himself, and made me take 
off my coat. Then he called Monica, and said to 
her: " Get Mr. Harvey some tea and toast." 

" Never mind about that," said I j " I ate dinner 
just before I left home." 

But Monica came in again soon, and I refreshed 
myself with a cup of tea. Then Mr. Webster 
said : — 

" Now tell me what it means." 

So I began deliberately to go into the whole 
subject, stating the causes, and telling him who 
the men were that did it, and what their motives 
were ; and, furthermore, that there was one shout 
of indignation from all quarters. 

" If you should come to Boston to-morrow," said 
I, " you would be received with demonstrations of 
affection that you never thought to find even 
there; but it would be mingled with a feeling 
of indignation that a few men, clothed with brief 
authority, should have the 'lower to commit an act 
that would wound you, and go to the country as 
an expression of the citizens of Boston. But," 
added I, '' a reaction has taken place ; and it is 
frightful. I have thought that the houses of these 
aldermen were almost in danger, and they them- 
selves are greatly frightened." 

" Fletcher came down," rejoined Mr. Webster, 
" and merely told me the bald fact that the city 
government had refused the Hall, and brought me 
a note from Mr. Choate, which 1 could not read. 



186 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

By the way, tell Mr. Choate to write better ; his 
handwriting is barbarous. I could not read a sin- 
gle word. There is the letter; just look at it! 
Tell Mr. Choate to go to a writing-school, and take 
a quarter's lessons. Fletcher did not give any 
explanation, only that the city government had 
refused my friends the Hall. And I have been 
ruminating, for two hours past, since Fletcher went 
to his own house ; in the mean time, I had come to 
the conclusion, which you and other friends suggest, 
to forego the occasion altogether. I had written a 
letter, which is out in the office in the garden." 

" What I wish, Mr. Webster," said 1, " and what 
Mr. Choate wishes, is that you should write a let- 
ter, — one of your best, — a letter that shall have 
an effect, and tell." 

" Well," returned he, " I have written it." 
He sent over and got the portfolio in which it 
was ; and handed it to me. It was in Fletcher's 
handwriting, dictated by Mr. Webster, and it was 
something like this : — 

I have had the honor of receiving your communication 

of in regard to the matter of meeting ray fellow-citi- 

lens, without distinction of party, in Faneuil Hall, on a day 
agreeable to myself. I had accepted that invitation at some 
iittle inconvenience, and fixed upon the time, which was to 
be next Thursday. Since that acceptance, for some cause, un- 
doubtedly a proper one, best known to yourselves, the city 
government of Boston, the Mayor and Aldermen, have re- 
fused the use of the Hall to our fellow-citizens; and conse- 
quently I shall postpone any visit I had contemplated. 
I have the honor to be, 

Very truly yours, 

Daxibi, Webstek. 



J'UBLIC LIFE. 187 

"That is not the letter we want," I said. 

" Does not that tell the story ? " he asked. 

'' Yes," said I, " but it doesn't tell the whole of 
it. We want a letter that shall express every thing. 
In other words, we want you to remind the people 
of Boston of your services to this State." 

" No ! " he exclaimed, " I cannot do that. If 1 
have done any services to the State of Massachu- 
setts, and they have to be reminded of it by me, 
they will never be reminded. No ; I never speak 
of myself," 

" There are times," I urged, " when that may be 
properly done ; and I think this is eminently one. 
Fanaticism and foolishness seem to run wild ; and 
if this sort of men have refused you the Hall, and 
such an expression goes out to the country as the 
sentiment of Boston, it will be an outrage upon 
the facts and history." 

"Well," said he, " I cannot help that. If that 
were so ; if the people of Boston had said this, and 
if this was their expression, — I had said that I would 
go quietly through the city of Boston on my way 
back to Washington; and I had almost resolved 
that I would never come again within the borders 
of Massachusetts. What you have said relieves 
me upon that point ; and I shall rest upon it. Let 
it pass." 

Then he cheered up. There was a great deal 
of conversation, and he became thoroughly well 
satisfied that the citizens of Boston were not in 
any true sense represented in this action of their 
city government. 



188 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

" And now," said he, " let us drop that matter, 
and not say another word about Faneuil Hall, the 
Mayor and Aldermen of Boston, or any other un- 
pleasant subject ; let us have some cheerful talk, 
and you take your cigar." He never smoked. 

So I lighted my cigar. He told Mrs. Webster that 
ehe had better retire ; that he would show me to 
my bed-room. We chatted on all sorts of topics ; 
he just as cheerful and interesting as I ever saw 
him. 

As, later in the evening, he lighted me up the 
broad stair-way to my chamber, he said : " I have 
got a little inkling in my mind of the letter I shall 
write ; and after I get you into your bed-room, I 
think I shall go and write it." 

He examined the bed to see if it was all right, 
and gave some directions in regard to it. Then, 
as I bade him good-night, he turned to me, with a 
significant look, and said : — 

" I think I shall retire too, and to-morrow morn- 
ing, a little before the cock crows, I shall be up, 
and I will try and write a letter." 

The first thing I heard in the morning was a gen- 
tle tap upon my door. I said, " Come in." 

Mr. Webster entered, holding in his two fingers, 
the ink hardly dry, a large foolscap sheet, — the 
letter. He came up to the bed, and, with a very 
expressive glance, remarked : " This is the creat- 
ure ; " and laid it down on the table. " Sleep a 
little longer," said he j " and, after you have got 
up, read it." 

As soon as he left the room I read the letter, 



PUBLIC LIFE. 189 

which I enjoyed exceedingly. It was dignified, 
and very pointed. It was the letter in which he 
used this expression : " I shall defer my visit to 
Faneuil Hall, the cradle of American liberty, until 
its doors shall fly open on golden hinges to lovers 
of Union as well as lovers of Liberty." 

When I went down to breakfast, he asked : — 

" What do you think of the letter ? " 

"It is all right," I replied; " it is all just as it 
should be." 

Before leaving for the city, as I did that mornnig, 
he charged me to show the letter, before I gave it 
to the committee, to Mr. Choate. Said he : " Show 
it to Mr. Choate, and ask him if that is what he 
wants. Tell him you have my full authority to 
make any additions, and to take out any thing 
he chooses. Tell him I will stand by it ; let him 
amend it in any way." 

On reaching the city, I went directly to Mr. 
Choate, gave him an account of my interview, and 
showed him the letter, telling him what Mr. Web- 
ster had requested me to do. Mr. Choate, having 
read the letter, looked at me in astonishment. 

" / amend a letter of Mr. Webster ! " said he ; 
" I shoidd as soon think of amending the Acts of 
the Apostles ! The letter is perfect. Nobody else 
could write such a letter." 

The sequel to this incident was a complete tri- 
umph for Mr. Webster. He came up to the city, 
after the storm subsided, and was there three or 
four days before he returned to Washington. He 
stayed on that occasion at the Revei-e House. In 



190 EEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

the mean time, both branches of the city govern- 
ment had met in their respective chambers, and 
passed unanimously a series of resokitions invit- 
ing Mr. Webster to Faneuil Hall, on any day that 
woidd suit his convenience, he to be received as 
the guest of the city. They then appointed a very 
large committee to wait upon Mr. Webster and 
tender to him these resolutions. It was eating 
humble-pie, a complete backing down. 

Mr. Webster was dining with his brother-in- 
law, Mr. Paige, in Summer Street, on the evening 
of the day when this committee was appointed. 
Several gentlemen were present, of whom Mr. 
Choate was one. The names of the others I do 
not remember. Near the close of the dinner, 
and after the ladies had left the table, the ser- 
vant entered the dining hall and spoke to Mr. 
Paige, who went out. In a few moments he re- 
turned, and said that a committee of the city gov- 
ernment, the bearers of resolutions, were in the 
drawing-room, and desired to see Mr. Webster. 
Mr. Webster was about to go out. I sat beside 
him, and being indignant at the action of the city 
government, and wishing to annoy them all I could, 
I suggested to Mr. Webster that, if I were in his 
place, I would not go down. 

'• TeU them," said I, " that you are out to dine." 

Whereupon he turned to Mr. Paige, and said : 
^' Tell them I am stopping at the Revere House, 
and they can call there at twelve o'clock to-morrow, 
if they desire to communicate with me." 

The next day at twelve o'clock he had prepared 



PUBLIC LIFE. 191 

himself. He was dressed in full costume, — blue 
coat with brass buttons, buff vest, white cravat, 
silk stockings, and low shoes, and was only await- 
ing the arrival of this committee. Promptly at 
twelve o'clock the servant came up, and announced 
that the committee were in the ladies' drawinif- 
room. He went downstairs, asking me to go with 
him ; which I did. He stopped as soon as he had 
crossed the threshold of the room. The committee 
stood near the door ; I should think there were 
fifteen of them. The chairman of the committee 
was one of the aldermen who had refused him the 
Hall. He made a movement to come forward ; but 
Mr. Webster's manner was very forbidding, and the 
alderman saw that he was on dangerous ground. 
He merel}' made a formal bow, with his hands be- 
hind him, and said : — 

" We are a committee of the two branches of 
the city government, and have come for the pur- 
pose of presenting to you some resolutions passed 
unanimously on a joint ballot, requesting you to 
meet your fellow-citizens in Faneuil Hall, at such a 
day and hour as may suit your convenience. And 
I assure you that it is the unanimous wish of both 
branches of the city government that you should 
accept this invitation ; that what is past should be 
forgotten as a mistake ; and we hope that nothing 
will prevent your acceptance. It is the wish of 
every member of the Board of Aldermen that you 
should accept this invitation ; and let us make 
amends so far as we can. I have the honor to read 
the resolutions." 



192 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

The resolutions were then read. Mr. Webster 
stood perfectly still while they were being read. 
When the chairman had concluded, he said : — 

" I thank you for the resolutions." 

The chairman advanced and offered the resolu- 
tions to Mr. Webster ; he took them, and added, 
curtly, — 

" I will answer the committee in writing ; good 
morning, gentlemen." 

He then left the room. When we got upstairs, 
I remarked : — 

" That was a pretty cool proceeding." 

" But," said he, " I felt just so." 

" You are right," I replied. 

"To think," said he, "that it is flying all over 
the country, in the press, and everywhere, that 
Faneuil Hall has been refused to my friends by the 
city government of Boston, — a thing which they 
would grant to a company of blacklegs, — and 
that, too, after a hundred citizens had petitioned 
for it ! I cannot express the indignation which I 
feel." 

" You are right," I repeated. 

Mr. Webster then wrote the following reply, in 
substance : — 

Reverb House, 12J o'cloc*. 
Mr. . 



Chairman of Committee : — I have had the honor to 
receive the resohitions passed by the City Government, 
which you have presented to me this day ; and beg to say, 
in answer thereto, that it will not be convenient for me to 
accept the invitation contained in them. 

Respectfully yours, 

Daniel Wkbsteb. 



run Lie LIFE. 193 

''If I could word it in anv colder or briefer way 
than that," he said, '• 1 woidd." 

The reply was sent down to the City Hall. Tlial 
ended the affair. He told ine that he never \\ould 
enter Faneuil Hall while that Mayor and Board of 
Aldermen were in oflice. It may be recorded here 
that neither that Mayor nor that Board of Alder- 
men were re-elected. How much their action in 
regard to this proposed reception of Mr. ^^'ebster 
had to do with it, I do not know ; but that is the 
historical fact. 

Not long after the 7th of March speech, Mr. 
William Appleton was nominated for Congress in 
Boston. There was then a division among the 
Whigs about sustaining Mr. Webster ; and he was 
naturally anxious that a man should be sent to 
Congress who was not only a personal but a politi- 
cal sympathizer with him. There was a strong 
minority, to say the least, who were disposed to 
send a person who did not agree Avith the doctrines 
of the 7th of March speech, and who was not a 
particular friend of Mr. Webster. Mr. Stevenson 
had been nominated, and had declined. The nom- 
inating convention was so equally divided, that it 
was feared that what w^as called the opposition 
would carry their candidate, unless some very im- 
objectioiiable man could be found in the mean 
time. x\fter Mr. Stevenson's declination, Mr. Web- 
ster's friends cast about to see what other person 
they could lind. Mr. William Appleton, who never 
had been a public man, and never had held any 
office, was suggested ; and very much to the s\ir- 



194 ^xEMI^'lscE^'CES of daxikl webster. 

prise of many people, when asked if he avouIJ 
accept, he did not reply positively in the negative. 
His reply left the inference that he did not seek 
the office, but would take it if nominated. The 
convention met, and nominated Mr. Appleton bv 
only one or two majority. The committee waited 
on him, and he accepted the nomination that night, 
— the nomination being equivalent to an election, 
as the AYhigs were three to one in the district. 

Mr. Webster was at that time in Franklin, re- 
cruiting his health. I went up there the dav after 
the nomination, and when I informed him that Mr. 
Appleton had been nominated and had accepted, 
he jumped up and began to dance about the floor 
in the most hilarious manner. He said it was the 
best news he had heard for twenty years. 

'' How delimited I am ! " he exclaimed. '•' Why 
did not somebody think of that before ? He is the 
very best man who could be nominated. Boston 
should send commercial men to Congress ; they 
are infinitelv more useful than lawvers ; and when 
Boston has been represented by commercial men 
she has always been better represented than at 
any other time. Mr. Appleton will have more 
influence than a dozen lawyers. He is a high- 
toned gentleman ; and I am exceedingly gratified 
by his nomination." 

He had a very high opinion of Mr. Appleton. and 
Mr. Appleton was always a very warm friend of his. 

At the Whig Convention, which met in Balti- 
more on the 17th of June, 1852, Mr. Webster 
was an unsuccessful candidate for the nomination 



I 



PUBLIC LIVE. 195 

to the Presidency. 1 was at tliat oonveiitioii, nnd 
after its conclusion went to Washington, to Mr. 
Webster's house. He was alone, with the excep- 
tion of his family and perhaps one other guest. 
Of course the result of that convention and its pro- 
ceedings were known to him. He met me at the 
door, knowing I was coming, with an expression 
of grief ; but said not a word as to the result, only 
inquiring for Mr. Choate, who had taken a very 
prominent part in the convention in Mr. Webster's 
favor. I told him that Mr. Choate would be down 
in a later train from Baltimore ; and some two 
hours later Mr. Choate arrived. He camo imme- 
diatelv to Mr. Webster's house, and remuined to 
tea. Not a word was uttered in regard to the 
doings of the convention by Mr. Webster ; he 
seemed reallv too full for utterance. He did not 
make any comment as to the successful candidate, 
nor as to the result. Mr. Choate, after tea, had an 
interview of an hour or so with him, after which 
he went to his hotel, and returned to Boston the 
next day. I remained a day or two in Washington. 
Mr. Choate, on meeting me after my return to 
Boston, spoke of the interview as one of the 
most affecting he had ever had. He said that 
the appearance of the family, and ever}^ thing 
about the house, seemed to remind him of scenes 
that he had witnessed in families which had lo.st a 
beloved member. " And that sad meal," added he, 
" which we partook of with Mr. and Mrs. Webster 
that night, reminded rae strongly of the first meal 
after the return from the grave, when the full 



196 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

force of the bereavement seems to be realized. 
It was too deep an emotion for utterance." 

Not long after this, Mr. Webster left Washington, 
and returned to his home at Marshfield. He was 
ill, and I was much with him at that gloomy time. 

One day I was dining at Marshfield, Mr. Webster 
being now confined to his room. I was sitting at 
the table, when his body servant came and whis- 
pered to me that Mr. Webster wished me to come 
to him when I had finished my dinner. I immedi- 
ately put back my chair and obeyed the summons. 

Mr. Webster was lying at full length on the sofa, 
with a pillow under him. As soon as he heard me, 
he remarked : — 

" I said, when you had finished your dinner ; 
you have not finished it, and I don't want to see 
you." 

I approached him and replied : — 

" I have eaten all the dinner that I want ; I very 
much prefer to come here and listen to any thing 
you may say." 

He then ordered William to bring in a little 
camp chair, and I sat down by his side. 

He put his hand in mine and said : — 

" Now, I may never have another opportunity 
to say a few things that I propose to say to you 
to-night. This is perhaps my only, and certainly 
the best, opportunity I shall have. William, shut 
the door, and don't let anybody in here until I give 
you permission." 

He then began by saying that Fletcher had told 
him — for he read no newspapers himself, and 



PUBLIC LIFE. 197 

allowed noue to be read in his presence — that Mr. 
Choate was going to make a speech for General 
Scott in Faneuil Hall, and that the " Atlas " had 
announced the fact. I said : — 

" I am very glad, Mr. Webster, that you mention 
that to me ; because I can contradict it emphati- 
ciiWy. Mr, Choate says that, having participated 
in the convention which nominated General Scott, 
and having failed in his purpose to nominate you, 
he certainly did not think himself bound in honor 
to take any part in the election of General Scott ; 
and sooner would he lose his right hand than to 
say a word or do a thing in favor of General Scott ; 
that his obligations to the Whig Convention do not 
require this at his hands ; and any statement that 
the ' Atlas ' may make to the contrary is gratuitous 
and without foundation." 

This seemed to please liim very much -, and he 
remarked : — 

'' I did not suppose that Mr. Choate would. I 
think I know him too well ; I think I know that 
his friendship and love for me are too great to 
allow him to do a thing that would be so wound- 
ing to my feelings. I may never see him again, 
but do }'0u tell him that I thank him for thii» 
communication." 

" Mr. Webster," said I, " if you recover from this 
sickness, you should write a sort of farewell address 
to 3'our countrymen." 

" I write a farewell address ? Oh, no ! that 
would be both useless and presumptuous." 

" There is no person," I replied, " who has a 



198 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

better right to do so, or whose opmions would have 
more weight with the American people." 

" When I look back," he went on, " over the 
past quarter of a century, on the course of the 
Whig party, and the events connected with it, and 
see where it now is, I say. What a fall ! I want 
you to tell Mr. Choate — and this is the last time 
that I shall speak of political subjects to any one^ 
for I do not allow them to be broached in my pres- 
ence — that the Whig party, after the 4th day of 
November, will cease to exist. It has been for 
thirty years a noble party, — a party of which I 
have been one of the leaders ; a party to which I 
have been devoted, because it was a party of prin- 
ciple, a party in favor of administering the genei al 
government according to the charter, and never, 
until recently, disposed to adopt a policy of expedi- 
ency. But it began its downward course when it 
nominated General Harrison. Before that it had 
always taken, instead of an available man, an able 
man ; a man fit to be its standard-bearer, and fit to 
be President. But somehow or other new leaders 
got in, who wanted office ; and they said : ' In 
order to succeed, we must imitate the action of our 
opponents ; we must take available men ; we must 
have no reference to high qualifications.' With 
that spirit they nominated General Harrison, a re- 
spectable man, but not a fit man to occupy that 
high position. They succeeded in electing General 
Harrison, but his early death rendered their victory 
abortive. Then they nominated Clay at the next 
election ; and that was a nomination fit to be made. 



PUBLIC LIFE. 199 

That was proper, because he was fit to be President. 
They were beaten. But still they continued to 
hurrah for availability^ The battle of Buena Vista 
was fought, and then there was a hero in General 
Tajlor. They did not know whether General Tay- 
lor was a Whig or a Democrat, or what he was ; but 
he was a hero, and nominate him they would, and 
nominate him thev did. But Providence removed 
him. They happened to nominate an able man for 
Vice-president in Mr. Fillmore, who succeeded to 
the government after a year ; and I think that ]\lr. 
Fillmore has given us as fair and impartial and able 
an administration as the government has had for 
many years. To say nothing of the part I have 
taken in it, I think it is an administration that has 
done credit to the Whig party. And now comes 
another dose of availabilitv. General Scott has 
been nominated. Let me say to you here to-night, 
— I make this prophecy, and you may write it 
down and bear it in mind, — that General Scott will 
not receive the electoral vote of six States of the 
Union. I know that they say I am no politician, 
and know nothing about the feeling of the masses of 
men. ' Mr. Webster is,' they say, ' a great man, an 
able man, but he has no sympathies with the peo- 
ple ; the people know nothing about him, and their 
wants and tastes he knows nothing about.' Now 
I say, with all deference to these young men of 
the party, that I do know a great deal more about 
the temper of the American people than they give 
me credit for, and a great deal more than they 
know. This one thing I know ; that the American 



200 KEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

people will not elect General Scott President, with 
the surroundings that they well know he has. 
General Scott himself is well enough. He is a 
man of good principles, a conservative man. But 
he would be a mere tool in the hands of the 
New York Whig regency, headed by William H. 
Seward ; and, if he should be elected, he will not 
be Pi'esident of the United States, but William H. 
Seward will. One of the convictions of my mind, 
and it is very strong, is that the people of the United 
States will never intrust their destinies and the ad- 
ministration of their government to the hands of 
William H. Seward and his associates. Mr. Seward 
is in some respects an able man, but subtle and un- 
scrupulous, and will make every thing bend to the 
one idea of making himself President of the United 
States. He has been catering, first for the vote of 
the Catholics, and then for that of the Abolitionists : 
it is no matter whose votes they are, if they only 
lift him to the great office. General Scott would be 
a puppet in his hands ; and I again predict that he 
will not receive the electoral vote of six States in 
the Union on the 4th of November. I predict also 
that, after that election, the Whig party will cease 
to exist. So much for that. There are some per- 
sons friendly to me — and their kindness I appre- 
ciate and respect — who are even now making an 
electoral ticket with my name upon it. I have 
not said any thing about it ; but I am free to men- 
tion it now, for I think it a very foolish movement. 
Besides, I had made up my mind to take no part 
whatever in this election." 



PUBLIC LIFE. 201 

"That kind of ticket would please your eiieinio.s 
more than your friends," said I, " because it can- 
not receive more than a mere handful of votes ; 
and then your enemies will say, ' There is the 
strength of your poi)ular candidate.' " 

" Precisely so," replied he. 

" And therefore my course," said I, " is not to 
vote." 

" Well," rejoined Mr. Webster, " that won't do. 
Now, let me tell you. General Pierce as the can- 
didate of the Democratic party will be elected 
overwhelmingly. General Pierce is not a great 
man in the proper acceptation of the term ; but 
he is not by any means a small man. He is 
a well-informed, intelligent, ripe, talented man. 
General Pierce entered the Senate just over the 
age when he was eligible. I was with him six or 
eight years in that body ; politically opposed all 
the while. Although a very young man, and al- 
though his associates of his own party were some 
of them very eminent and tried statesmen, — such 
as Benton and Calhoun and all that class of men, — 
his career was a very respectable one. He always 
acquitted himself with credit. So far as I was per- 
sonally concerned, our relations were always of the 
most friendly and cordial character, although we 
were in the Senate together when party spirit ran 
unusually high, and when it had an efTect to alien- 
ate persons holding different political views, and 
was carried into social life. General Pierce was 
always kind and courteous to me. I well recollect 
him when he first entered the Senate, and liis ere- 



202 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

dentials were presented, — a handsome, youthful 
person. I very soon made his acquaintance ; and 
I said to him : ' Mr. Pierce, you come from my 
native State ; we are natives of New Hampshire, 
and we both love the mother that bore us. Your 
father I was early taught to respect ; he fought 
side by side with mine in the Revolution ; they 
were early friends and patriots. Now, these polit- 
ical differences need not interfere with or disturb 
our social intercourse. I always love a New Hamp- 
shire man ; I never shall cease to. Let me say 
now, that you always will be welcome to my 
house ; and I here promise you that the subject of 
politics shall never be broached by me there. Mrs. 
Webster will be glad to see you, and will always 
have an empty chair for you at our tea-table : 
come in as a younger brother.' He availed him- 
self of that proffered civility ; and, during his 
whole career in the Senate of the United States, 
although differing politically and voting on oppo- 
site sides on almost every question, there never 
was a word uttered by him, to my knowledge, in 
any way disrespectful or unkind to me. Since the 
events of two years ago, — the passage of the 
Compromise bills, — all that class of men have 
been not only courteous, but they have been 
friendly ; and you know how they feel, because 
you dined at New Hampshire with forty of them, 
at my invitation. General Pierce among them. 
A few weeks ago, since his nomination to this 
office, while I was in New Hampshire with Mrs. 
Webster, spending a few days at ' The Elms ' farm, 



rUBLIC LIFE. 203 

he drove over in a chaise, on a pretty warm day, 
twelve miles from his residence in Concord, with hi.s 
wife, who is not a strong person, to call on me and 
Mrs. Webster. I appreciated that kindness and civil- 
ity, and was intending to return it ; and had ordered 
a carriage, — Mrs. Webster's carriage and horses 
being up in New Hampshire, — for the purpose of 
making a formal call upon the next President of 
the United States and his lady. This sickness in- 
tervenes and prevents my design, and he must take 
the will for the deed. If I never see him again, — 
and I probably never shall, — I wish you to give 
him my warm regards and sympathies. And now, 
having said that, and knowing that you will not 
vote for General Scott, — as you say you shall not 
(and I should know you would not if you had not 
said so), — and as it is not quite manly not to vote 
at all, let me advise you to vote for General Pierce. 
If you vote for a man, you have a right to advise 
him : if you don't, you haven't." 

And he added : — 

" If I had a vote to give, I should cast it for 
General Pierce." 

" My mind is made up," I replied ; " I shaU ?ast 
my vote for him." And I did. 

Mr. Webster's prophecy as to the result of the 
election of 1852 calls to mind another prophecy 
of his, made long before, which was yet more 
worthy of note. Talking, in 1840, with Mr. 
Thomas Tileston, soon after his return from Eu- 
rope, about the union of California with the 
United States, he showed a thorough appreciation 



204 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

of the importance of California to this country. 
He said : — 

" I have been looking over some maps of Cali- 
fornia, and informing myself more particularly 
about that distant country ; and, in tracing up the 
western coast of America, my eye instinctively 
rested on a spot that, sooner or later, must become 
part and parcel of the United States. Do you 
know that that beautiful bay of San Francisco is 
capable of accommodating the whole naval power 
of the world ? " 

Nobody then thought of the value of California. 
Mr. Webster, however, with the eye of a statesman, 
saw not only its commercial value, but the necessity 
of its union with this country. He added : — 

" I know not how this will come about ; I cannot 
see so far as that. I hope we shall acquire it by 
purchase ; but one of these days we shall have it." 

Within ten years the prophecy was fulfilled. 

Mr. Webster did not have a very high opinion 
of the science of pohtical economy. He once wrote 
to a friend : — 

" For my part, though I like the investigation 
of particular questions, I give up what is called the 
science of political economy. There is no such 
science. There are no rules on these subjects so 
fixed and invariable that their aggregate constitutes 
a science. I believe I have recently run over twenty 
volumes, from Adam Smith to Professor Dew ; and 
from the whole, if I were to pick out with one hand 
all mere truisms, and with the other all the doubt- 
ful propositions, little would be left." 



CHAPTER Vll. 

MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. 

Mr. Webster was at once cautious in speaking 
of those with whom he came in contact in public 
life, and liberal in his estimate of the tjilents of his 
political and oratorical rivals Indeed, he was usu- 
ally reticent on political subjects, seldom referring 
to them in hours of leisure, and only now and then 
opening his mind upon them and the men connected 
with them. 

In a letter written in 1827 to a Philadelphia 
friend, he speaks thus : — 

" It would give me serious pain if any reference 
were made to any supposed opinion of mine on such 
a subject as is referred to in your letter. I en- 
deavor in all instances, and I thought I had care- 
fully done so in this, to observe an entire absti- 
nence from putting forth my own sentiments, 
when it is proper that the feelings and wishes of 
others should prevail." 

In speaking of his contemporaries, Mr. Webster 
seemed to avoid with conscientious care all bitter- 
ness of expression and all undue severity of judg- 
ment as affected by his own personal feelings or 
prejudices. In his reply to Ilayne, he declared : 



206 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

" I tliank God that, if I am gifted with little ol 
the spirit which is able to raise mortals to the skies, 
I have yet none, as I trnst, of that other spirit 
which would drag angels down. When, sir, I shall 
be found, in my place here in the Senate or else- 
where, to sneer at public merit because it happens 
to spring up beyond the little Imiits of my own 
State or neighborhood ; when I refuse, for any 
such cause, or for any cause, the homage due to 
American talent, to elevated patriotism, to sincere 
devotion to liberty and the country ; or, if I see 
an uncommon endowment of Heaven, if I see ex- 
traordinary capacity and virtue in any son of the 
South, and if, moved by local prejudice or gan- 
grened by State jealousy, I get up here to abate 
the tithe of a hair from his just character and just 
fame, — may my tongue cleave to the roof of my 
mouth! " 

The acts of Mr. Webster's life and his conversa- 
tions practically exemplified this generous senti- 
ment. He was the most truly and distinctively 
American statesman since Washington. I once 
heard him say that the great defect of our public 
men lay in their too narrow views. " Their policy," 
said hi, " is bounded by State lines. Their patri- 
otism is hemmed in by the horizon that encircles 
their own neighborhood. I have often been aston- 
ished at the legal acumen and extensive research 
of some of the lawj^ers in our county courts, and 
have asked myself why they are not better known. 
They fail to rise in the public esteem because their 
ambition is satisfied with a local popularity ; and 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. 207 

they regulate their conduct and ophiion.s by the 
public sentiment of their own village. They look 
not beyond the shops, churches, and hotels that 
are visible from their own doors." 

Mr. Webster always chose to judge of men by 
their excellences rather than their defects. His 
letters amply show^ this. Both friend and foe re- 
ceived full justice at his hands. He was the last 
man to disown an obligation for information that 
he received. Whenever he received advice, legal 
or political, that afforded him aid, he was not slow 
to acknowledge it, either in public or in private. 
Many readers will remember the delicate and re- 
sponsible position he held in President Tyler's 
Cabinet. Dissatisfied politicians were reluctant to 
award to Mr. Tyler even the negative credit of 
non-intervention in the settlement of the difficul- 
ties relating to the north-eastern boundary; but 
Mr. Webster always acknowledged his cordial co- 
operation in that critical and difficult negotiation, 
and till the close of his life maintained a sincere 
respect for the ex-President. 

Nothing could be more interesting and valuable 
than Mr. Webster's opinions of his eminent con- 
temporaries. Such opinions as follow I heard, for 
the most part, from time to time, from his own lips. 
His keen powers of observation of character were 
brought into action early in his Congressional 
career. He wrote thus of some of his colleagues 
in 1824 : — 

"I find Mr. Plumer, who is on the committee 
with me, a very pleasant and respectable man. 1 



208 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

see more of him than of all the rest of our dele- 
gation." 

The friendship thus formed with Mr. Plmner 
lasted till the latter's death. They corresponded 
often ; and in his letters Mr. Webster frequently 
alluded kindly to Governor Plumer, his colleague's 
father, who had long been a warm and decided 
political opponent. 

Of another member of Congress from New 
Hampshire he spoke, in the same letter, in a 
different strain, as follows : — 

" You doubtless saw how Messrs. Clay and Bart- 
lett settled their matter ; or rather how somebody 
else settled it for them. I presume you are right 
as to the motive which led Bartlett to make a 
conned speech against my motion. That was all 
fair enough ; at least, I could not complain. But 
when he brought into debate his broad Dover 
court wit, I thought it better to settle the account 
on the spot." 

In a letter written to Judge Smith, soon after 
his first appearance in Congress, Mr. Webster 
thus gave his impressions of the leading law- 
yers practising at that time before the supreme 
court : — 

" I have been a good deal in court ; generally 
finding there more entertainment than elsewhere. 
Pinkney, Harper, Dexter, and Stockton have ar- 
gued most of the cases. Dexter made an eloquent 
argument on the question of domicile ; but, on the 
whole, I thought his efforts did not more than equal 
expectation. Pinkney, with all the folly and flip- 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTI-L^IPORARIKS. 209 

pane}' of his manner, seenis to me to be a very 
able lawyer. He and Dexter did not take to each 
other much. There is no great love lost between 
them. They both argued one side of a great cause. 
Dexter opened, and laid down his principles and 
doctrines. Pinkney followed, and made a direct 
attempt to overthrow Dexter's whole argument ! 
For half an hour he combated it with all zeal ; 
and Harper, in reply to both, excused himself from 
answering Dexter, because, he said, Dexter's col- 
league had effectually done that for him ! Stock- 
ton is an able man. He has no rubbish about him. 
His manner is plain, his logic sound, and his 
powers of enforcing and illustrating his positions 
great. These lawyers have made a great deal of 
money at this time out of the prize causes. Very 
great divisions have prevailed on the bench, as jou 
have probably heard, — Marshall, Livingston, and 
Johnson one way; Washington, Todd, Duval, and 
Story, the other." 

Mr. Webster, himself in early life a Federalist, 
always had a profound veneration for that Revolu- 
tionary statesman and sturdy old Federalist leader, 
John Adams. This regard, conceived in his early 
youth, lasted to the venerable ex- President's death. 

On one occasion, while the Constitutional Con- 
vention was in session in Boston, Mr. Adams and a 
number of other gentlemen dined with Mr. Web- 
ster. Their time was short, the Convention having 
adjourned from two to three o'clock, leaving thus 
but an hour for dinner. 

In those days smoking was an almost universal 

u 



210 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

habit ; and tliough Mr. Webster himself never 
smoked, he kept cigars for his guests. His resi- 
dence was near the State House, where the Con- 
vention held its sessions. The dinner was pro- 
longed as much as possible, considering the time. 
and, on rising to depart, each gentleman lighted 
his cigar. Mr. Adams, remarkin^z: that time was 
short, lighted two cigars, and put one into each 
corner of his mouth ; and in this fashion proceeded 
to the Convention, of which he was President. 

I was once dining with Mr. Webster in Washing- 
ton, when the mood of story-telling came upon him, 
and he related the following anecdote about the 
elder Adams. He said that it was his habit, in pass- 
ing through Quincy, during the later years of Mr. 
Adams's life, to stop and call upon him, and pay 
his respects. On one seventeenth of June, near 
the close of the day, he was driving down, and 
halted at Mr. Adams's door. I think it was the 
very year that the " President," as Mr. Webster 
was wont to call him, died. It was a hot afternoon, 
and as Mr. Webster went in, he found the Presi- 
dent lying on the sofa, while some female relative 
was cooling his brow by fanning him. He went up 
to the sofa, and said : " I hope the President is well 
to-day." 

•' No," replied Mr. Adams. " I don't know, Mr. 
Webster; I have lived in this old and frail tene- 
ment a great many years ; it is very much dilapi- 
dated ; and, from all that I can learn, my landlord 
doesn't intend to repair it.'' 

Mr Webster once gave a very graphic description 



MH. WEBSTKK AND HIS CONTK.MI'oIIaKIKS "J J I 

of Thomas Jetfersoii, whom lie had seen -it Monti- 
cello. 

•• He looked to me," said he, " xevy dilTerent 
from any ideal that I had formed of him. lie 
Avas a tall, gaunt, light-haired, light-complexioned 
man, and not a person of impre.ssive aspect. 
A.mong his strong characteristics was a great dis- 
like for Patrick Henry. He conversed freely about 
Henry, and spoke of his being a very illiterate man. 
He pretended to be a lawyer, but he was a mere 
pettifogger, a man of talent, a great deelaimer, 
a splendid orator, but not profound. For such a 
state of things as existed at the breaking out of 
the Revolution, he was the sort of person who 
would make a successful denunciatory speaker ; 
but, if he had lived in a quiet time, he would 
have passed along without being observed by any- 
body, because he was ignorant and uneducated, 
coarse, and very lazy. He had no habits of indus- 
try. Mr. Jefferson told me that he did not think 
that Henry ever read three law books in his life ; 
and yet on jury trials he was quite a famous man. 
Some days before my visit, Wirt's Life of Henry 
had appeared. It had been out long enough to 
have been read and somewhat discussed. I spoke 
of the book, and Jefferson smiled, and said : ' As 
you see, I so arrange my library as to have in one 
department history, in another biography, in an- 
other poetry, and so forth ; and one department I 
reserve for works of fiction. 1 have not yet placed 
tliis book of Wirt's, and I have not decided whether 
to put it in the department of biographies or in that 



212 IvEMJNISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

of fiction ; 1 rather think, however, it is best suited 
for the Latter.' " 

Mr. Webster was greatly interested in this visit to 
Jefferson, and he said that very much of the early 
prejudice which he had imbibed with his political 
opinions in youth, when he considered Jefferson a 
great heretic, was dispelled when he came into per- 
sonal contact with the aged statesman, and saw him 
in his home. Jefferson's great simplicity impressed 
him. Mr. Webster believed him to be a sincere 
man, very true to his convictions ; and was con- 
vinced that much of the abuse heaped upon him 
by the opposite party, which had accused him of 
being a demagogue and an anarchist, was unjust. 
Mr. Webster said to me once, in speaking of 
Jefferson, that he had more deeply impressed his 
opinions and theories, as well as his practical ideas 
of government, upon the legislation and destinies of 
the country, than any man that had lived. The 
government was new under the first President, and 
a great deal of form was adopted by Washington 
as necessary to the dignity of office. He felt the 
need of a sort of court. He had his military 
notions of preserving the dignity of position, which 
was manifested in his going to open Congress 
in a coach and six horses, dressing in a military 
costume, and observing very elaborate forms in his 
receptions and visits of courtesy. He thought it 
necessary to have the chief executive officer of a 
great country so elevated and so surrounded by 
these forms and trappings, that it might inspire 
a feeling of respect and awe. Jefferson showed 



MR "WT^BSTER AND HIS CONTEMPOKARIKS. 21o 

great contempt for all that sort of thing. He said 
that our Republic should not take pattern from 
any other Government in these respects. It was, 
and ought to be, emphatically a democratic gov- 
ernment. The Executive was one of the people, 
selected as their agent for the time being. There 
was no reason in the world why he should be at 
all removed from the people. It was for him to 
administer the government as their agent for a 
limited time, and then return to them to get his 
living as other people did. Jefferson added, that 
General Washington was of opinion that it was nec- 
essary to grant retiring pensions to ex-Presidents ; 
but it was not necessary in Washington's case, and 
he would not have taken it had it been offered him. 
Jefferson's ideas of republican simplicity became 
the settled policy of the country, and were carried 
out in all our intercourse with foreign nations. 
Our ministers were required to be dressed plainly. 
Jefferson's instructions were that they should ap- 
pear at foreign courts as the envoys of a republic, 
in citizens' costume. He would have it understood, 
not only that this was a republic, where the people 
were sovereigns, but that we carried out our re- 
publicanism in our intercourse with foreign gov- 
ernments. 

Mr. Webster's comment was that he thought it 
fortunate that Jefferson's ideas prevailed. They 
were, undoubtedly, more in accordance with the 
spirit of our institutions. He said that, in carrying 
out his idea of republican simphcity, Jefferson had 
to contend with ideas and precedents derived from 



214 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

the Mother Country, from which we inherited so 
many of our laws, habits, and customs. Jefferson, 
however, stamped his individuahty, his pecuUarities 
of character, upon the institutions and government 
of the country more strongly than any other states- 
man of the Republic's infancy. 

From the beginning of Mr. Webster's public 
career till the last year of his life, Henry Clay was 
his foremost political and oratorical rival ; and for 
at least a quarter of a century these two famous 
men contended for the leadership of the Whig 
party and for its preference for the Presidency. 
Their terms of public service were almost identical 
in point of time. They served side by side, first 
in the House, and then in the Senate ; each in turn 
occupied the high office of Secretary of State, and 
Webster only outlived Clay a few months. There 
was little question that, during this long period, 
the palm for statesmanship and eloquence lay be- 
tween these two, who towered so conspicuously 
above all the rest of their companions in the ser- 
vice of the nation. Two characters more dissimi- 
lar, however, could scarcely be imagined ; and so 
different had been their bringing up, their methods 
of thought and motives of action, their tempera- 
ments and their aims, that it scarcely could be ex- 
pected that they should become familiar and cordial 
friends. To this striking diversity of character add 
the circumstances of their earnest rivalry, their 
equal ambition for leadership and for the highest 
office, and the divided allegiance which they held 
from the party to which both belonged, and which 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMrOR ARIES. 210 

both so nobly adorned, and we see at once iliul 
there was ample reason for coldness between them. 
Mr. Webster's opinion of his great rival could 
not but be deeply interesting. He talked very 
freely of Mr. Clay. He frankly admitted that he 
did not like him. They belonged to the same 
party, and theii" political ideas harmonized ; but 
these were the only matters in which they agreed. 
Mr. Webster was magnanimous enough to support 
Mr. Clay heartily, when he was nominated against 
Polk, in 1844. He went to Pennsylvania and took 
the stump in his behalf. This was an act involving 
great inconvenience as well as generosity on Mr. 
Webster's part ; for it was a laborious and exhaust- 
ing task, and he felt no warmth of personal regard 
for the man whose claims he was advocating. 
When he was about starting off upon this tour, 
I said to him : — 

" I should let Mr. Clay get elected to the Presi- 
dency in his own way, if I were you." 

" It is not Mr. Clay," he replied : " it is the cause, 
the great cause, the success of which I believe to be 
for the interest of the country. Men are nothing, 
principles are every thing. Besides, Mr. Clay is fit 
to be President. He is qualified for the station. 
His principles are such as I approve ; and hia 
ability nobody can question. Therefore, I am 
bound as an honest man to do every thing I can. 
And when I say that, 1 am perfectly well aware 
that Mr. Clay would not do the same thing for 



>> 
me. 



Nothing in the course of the events which de- 



216 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

feated Mr. "Webster at Baltimore, in 1852, wounded 
him more than what Mr. Clay said to some of the 
delegates who were on their way to attend the 
convention. Mr. Clay's remarks were repeated to 
Mr. Webster, and by him in turn to me. At that 
time Mr. Clay was within three weeks of his death, 
lingering as it were in the last hours of his exist- 
ence. The delegates called to pay their respects to 
him, and he admitted some of them to his presence. 
They naturally asked his opinion as to whom it 
was best to support at Baltimore. He said : " Fill- 
more, by all means." 

" But," said they, " some advocate Scott ; and 
others, Webster." 

" General Scott is a very good man," Clay re- 
plied ; " he is a political friend of mine, and a 
good soldier. I have a great respect for him. 
Mr. Webster is of course an eminent man, and all 
that ; but neither of these men has ever been tried 
in the office. Mr. Fillmore has: why not go for 
him?" 

Mr. Webster said that scarcely any thing wounded 
Lim more than this suggestion of Mr. Clay, that Mr. 
Fillmore should be preferred because he had been 
tried and found competent, and that he (Webster) 
was not fit to be President, simply because he never 
had been tried in that office ! " The thing is too 
absurd," said he, " for anybody to believe that it 
was sincere. I think my treatment of Mr. Clay 
did not justify such a comment, at such a time, 
upon my qualifications for the Presidency. It 
wounded me very much." 



MK. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. 217 

I think Mr. Webster appreciated all Mr. Clay's 
good qualities. He said that, with a great deal of 
native talent, and a little smattering of law, — 
less than that possessed by mere oftice boys in 
some large offices, — Mr. Clay went into the wil- 
derness of Kentucky ; and with a good address, 
natural eloquence, perseverance, boldness, and all 
those qualities that are admired by a new people, 
he became an influential man. In Kentucky, while 
there was no lack of talent in the legal profession, 
neither the judiciary nor the bar could be called 
learned. In that State, therefore, Mr. Clay be- 
came almost supreme as an advocate. In the class 
of trials and suits that would naturally come before 
the courts of such a district, where disputes and 
brawls of all sorts were constantly arising, the man 
who employed Mr. Clay was usually the successful 
party. He had great power among all classes of 
the people. He early went into public life, of 
course without having had much opportunity to 
study, and thus make up for the deficiencies of his 
early training. Going to Washington with a brill- 
iant reputation, he was naturally employed in a 
great many cases in the Supreme Court. He was 
not, however, adapted by training or education to 
the class of cases that were tried before that tribu- 
nal. There were no juries there; it was all dry 
law, all logic. 

" In the course of my professional life," said Mr. 
Webster, "it has happened many times that I 
found myself retained in the same cause with Mr. 
Clay. He was my senior by several years, in the 



218 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

profession and in age. That fact gave him the 
right to speak first in all such cases. Often, before 
beginning my argument, I have had to labor hard 
to do away with the effect and impression of his. 
Some of the most laborious acts of my professional 
life have consisted in getting matters back to the 
starting point, after Clay had spoken. The fact is, 
he was no lawyer. He was a statesman, a politi- 
cian, an orator; but no reasoner." 

Mr. Webster talked with me about Mr. Clay's 
speech on the Compromise Measures, and declared 
that it was a prodigy. He said that when Mr. 
Clay spoke, the mercury in the Senate chamber 
was at 100°. " He was incapable," added Mr. 
Webster, " of a long, protracted, sustained physi- 
cal effort; and I could hardly conceive how it 
was possible for him to endure the labor necessary 
to speak as he did. He spoke nearly three hours, 
to a densely crowded Senate. I never listened to 
him with so much admiration and wonder as on 
that occasion. He is a very great man ; there is 
no mistake about that ; he is a wonderful man." 

Sometime during the year 1844, when Mr. Clay 
was a candidate for the Presidency, the news-boj^s 
were very busy hawking his Life about the streets 
of New York. One day, as Mr. Webster was enter- 
ing his carriage, in that city, a boy called out to 
him with great earnestness : " Life of Clay, Life 
of Clay, sir ! Will you take the Life of Clay ? " 
" Take Mr. Clay's life ? Not for the world ! " re- 
plied Mr. Webster. 

The personal relations between Mr. Webster and 



MK. WKBSTER AND HIS CONTKMPOHAKIICS. 210 

Mr. Calhoun were of (he pleasantest and friendH- 
est character. Thev had a hitih mutual esteem for 
each other, and this feeling existed down to the 
time of Mr. Callioun's death. Mr. Webster had 
the most exalted opinion of the great South Caro- 
linian's genius. I once asked him whom he con- 
sidered the greatest man he had met in the Senate, 
or with whom he had come in contact in public 
life. He replied without hesitation, "John C. 
Calhoun." lie said of him that he was " long- 
headed, a man of extraordinary power, — much 
the ablest man in the Senate." 

When Mr. Webster was about to deliver his 7th 
of March speech, he invited me to come on to 
Washington to hear it. lie intended to make it a 
great effort, the crowning address of his later 
public life ; and, as he knew beforehand that his 
action and motives would be misconstrued, and 
that the speech would bring down upon him con- 
demnation from many quarters, he was resolved 
that he would make use of all his powers to ren- 
der it worthy of his really high motives and his 
fame. Early on the morning of the 7th, 1 was 
sitting with him in his house, when the sergeant- 
at-arms of the Senate came in. lie told Mr. Web- 
ster that already not only the Senate chamber itself 
but all the approaches to it were crowded by an 
eager multitude. A great speech from Mr. Web- 
ster was a national event. Mr. Webster looked at 
me and, in a sad voice, spoke of this as being one 
of the last times that he should ever address listen- 
intc masses on the floor of thf. Senate, and of tliy 



220 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

rapidly approaching close of his public life. Re* 
covering his spirits again in a moment, he turned 
to the sergeant-at-arms, and said : — 

" However crowded the Senate chamber is, I 
want you to be sure and save two good seats ; one 
for Mrs. Webster, and the other for my old friend 
Harvey here, who has come all the way from Bos- 
ton to hear my speech." 

The sergeant-at-arms promised that he would do 
so. On going to the Senate chamber at the proper 
time, I found an excellent seat reserved for me, 
near and a little in front of the spot where Mr. 
Webster would stand when he made his speech. 
While he was speaking, an affecting incident oc- 
curred, which illustrated the warmth of feeling 
between Mr. Calhoun and himself. It appeared 
that, several days before, Mr. Webster had paid a 
visit to Mr. Calhoun in his sick room at the old 
Capitol building. The venerable South Carolina 
Senator was very ill, and it was thought that he 
would never be able to appear in his seat again ; 
the conversation turning upon the speech that Mr. 
Webster was about to make, the sick statesman 
expressed an earnest wish to hear it. Mr. Webster 
replied that he hoped he would be able to get to 
the Senate, as he himself was anxious that Mr. 
Calhoun should be present. Mr. Calhoun shook 
his head sadly, and said that he feared he was on 
his death-bed ; and Mr. Webster parted from him, 
fully impressed with the belief that the venerable 
.nvalid must soon pass away. 

Mr. Webster had not been speaking long, on 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. 221 

this occasion, when I saw a tall, gaunt figure, 
WTapped in a long hlack cloak, with deep, cavern- 
ous bhick e^^es and a thick mass of snow-white hair 
brushed back from the large brow and falling to 
the shoulders, advance with slow and feeble steps 
through the lobby behind the Vice-president's chair, 
and then, aided by one of the Senators, approach 
and sink into a chair on the opposite side of the 
chamber. I looked at Mr. Webster, and observed 
that as he spoke his face was turned the other way, 
so that he had not seen the almost ghostly figure 
come in. He went on speaking in his deep and 
sonorous tones ; and at last came to a passage 
wherein he alluded to something Mr. Calhoun had 
once said in debate, as "the utterance of the 
distinguished and venerable Senator from South 
Carolina, who, I deeply regret, is prevented by 
serious illness from being in his seat to-day." At 
this I glanced towards the tall, gaunt figure across 
the chamber. He was moving restlessly in his 
chair ; his head and body were bent eagerly for- 
ward, and he made an effort as if trying to rise 
and interrupt the orator. But the etlort seemed 
to be too much for him, for he sank back in his 
chair, evidently exhausted. The noble current of 
Websterian eloquence flowed majestically on, all 
unconscious of the intended interruption. Pres- 
ently the speaker once more had occasion to refer 
to some statement of Mr. Calhoun ; and again he 
alluded to him as " the eminent Senator from South 
Carolina, whom we all regret so much to miss, from 
such a cause, from his seat to-day." 



222 REMINISCENCES OF DAlS'IEL WEBSTER. 

The figure again grew restless ; the hands ner- 
vously grasped both arms of his chair ; the black 
eyes glared and shone in their eagerness ; and 
now, half rising from his seat, and unable any 
longer to bear the thought that Mr. Webster 
should remain unconscious of his presence, he 
exclaimed, in a feeble and hollow voice, which 
yet was heard throughout the chamber : — 

"■ The Senator from South Carolina is in his 
seat ! " 

Mr. Webster turned towards him with some- 
thing like a start, and when he saw that his friend 
had actually risen from the bed of death, and 
had indeed dared death itself to creep to the Capi- 
tol and hear his speech, he for a moment betrayed 
visible signs of deep emotion. Then, acknowledg- 
ing this touching compliment by a bow and a 
smile of profound satisfaction, he went on with 
his speech. 

A few days more, and Calhoun lay dead, in state, 
within those very walls. 

A year or two before Mr. Webster's death, he 
related to me an incident which illustrated the 
great change that came over Mr. Benton at one 
period of his life. Mr. Benton carried his political 
and party prejudices to the extreme. 

" We had had," said Mr. Webster, " a great 
many political controversies; we were hardly on 
bowing terms. For many years we had been mem- 
bers of the sjime body, and passed in and out at 
the same door without even bowing to each other, 
and ^\dthout the slightest mutual recognition ; and 



MK. WKHSTEU AND HIS COXT EMI'OIJ AIMKS. 223 

we never had any intercourse except such as was 
official, and where it couhl not be avoided. There 
were no social relations whatever between us. 

" At the time of the terrible gun explosion on 
board the ' Princeton,' during Mr. Tyler's adniinis- 
tmtion, Mr. Benton was on board ; and he related to 
me with tears this incident. lie said he was stand 
ing near the gun, in the very best position to see the 
experiment. The deck of the steamer was crowded ; 
and, with the scramble for places to witness the 
discharge of the gun, his position perhaps was the 
most favorable on the deck. Suddenly he felt a 
hand laid upon his shoulder, and turned ; some one 
wished to speak to him, and he was elbowed out of 
his place and another person took it, very much to 
his annoyance. The person who took his place 
was ex-Governor Gilmer, of Virginia, then Secre- 
tary of the Navy. Just at that instant the gun 
was fired, and the explosion took place. Governor 
Gilmer was killed instantly. Mr. Upshur, then Sec- 
retary of State, was also killed, as was one other 
man of considerable prominence. Colonel Benton, 
in relating this circumstance, said : ' It seemed to 
me, Mr. Webster, as if that touch on my shoulder 
was the hand of the Almighty stretched down there, 
drawing me away from what otherwise would have 
been instantaneous death. I was merely prostrated 
on the deck, and recovered in a very short time. 
That one circumstance has changed the whole cur- 
rent of my thoughts ami life. I feel that 1 am a 
different man, and I want in the first place to be 
at peace with all those with whom I have been so 



224 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTET8. 

sharply at variance. And so I have come to you. 
Let us bury the hatchet, Mr. Webster.' ' Nothing/ 
repHed I, ' could be more in accordance with my 
OAvn feelings.' We shook hands and agreed to let 
the past be past ; and from that time our intercourse 
was pleasant and cordial. After this time, there 
was no person in the Senate of the United States 
of whom I would have asked a favor, any reason- 
able and proper thing, with more assurance of 
obtaining it, than of Mr. Benton." 

In the year 1847, just after the discovery of 
gold in California, and after Colonel Fremont had 
wrested the territory from Mexican rule, a great 
deal was said about the glory of his achievements. 
There was a great rush of settlers to the newly- 
acquired territory, and universal excitement about 
it. Colonel Benton was in "high feather" at the 
success of his son-in-law, Colonel Fremont, and was 
full of the topic, talking of nothing else. In almost 
every debate in the Senate he alluded to it. Col- 
onel Fremont's name was in everybody's mouth, 
and his wonderful deeds were the subject of gen- 
eral laudation. Everybody who went to California 
sought Benton to get letters to Fremont, who was 
a sort of viceroy out there. 

One day after dinner, as Mr. Webster was seated 
in his library, the servant announced " Mr. Wilson, 
of St. Louis ; " and John Wilson came into the 
library. Mr. Webster at once rose and greeted 
him. Narrating the visit to me he said : — 

'• Mr. Wilson was a gentleman whom I had 
known more or less for a quarter of a century ; 



MR. WKBSTEU AND HIS CONTLMPORAIilES. 22o 

a lawyer of pretty extensive practice and Avitli a 
good deal of talent ; a man of very violent preju- 
dices and temper, who had spent most of his public 
life, after he reached manhood, in violent opposi- 
tion to Colonel Benton. It was not so much an op- 
position to Colonel Benton's democracy as it was a 
personal feud, as bitter and malignant as any that 
ever existed between two men. It was notorious 
in St. Louis that, when Colonel Benton went on 
the stump, John Wilson would always be there to 
meet him, and to abuse him in the most virulent 
terms ; and that Mr. Benton would return the fire. 
I had not seen AVilson for a good many years, and 
had only met him occasionally in court. He came 
to me now, a broken man, prematurely old, with a 
wrecked fortune ; and, after some conversation, he 
said : — 

" ' I am going to emigrate to Cahfornia in my 
old age, Mr. Webster. I am poor ; I have a family ; 
and, although it matters but little to me for the 
short time that remains to me, if I am poor, 3'et 
there are those who are dear to me, whose condi- 
tion I might improve by going to a new country 
and trying to mend my fortunes. My object in 
calling on you is to trouble you for a letter to some 
one in California ; merely to say that you know me 
to be a respectable person, worthy of confidence.' 

" After expressing my regret that he should feel 
obliged to emigrate to such a distance, — for then 
it looked hke a formidable undertaking to go to Cali- 
fornia, — I asked him if he was fully determined. 

" ' Yes,' said he, '' I have made up my mind.' 



226 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTEll. 

"Then I set about thinking what I could do 
for him. I saw no way to give him assistance. I 
had no particular influence with the Government 
at that time ; and finally I said : — 

'"I am sorry, Mr. Wilson, to say that, so far as 
I am aware, there is not a human being in Cali- 
fornia that I know. If I were to undertake to give 
a letter to any one in California, I should not know 
to whom to address it.' 

" ' That makes no difference,' said he : ' every- 
body knows you, and a certificate that you know me 
will be the most valuable testimonial I could have.' 

" ' I will write one with great pleasure, although 
you probably overrate the influence of my name 
in California. I want to do you a service. I want 
to give you something that will be of benefit to 
you. Let me see, Mr. Wilson. Colonel Benton 
almost owns California ; and he could give you a 
letter to Fremont and others that would be of first- 
rate service to you.' 

" He looked me in the face, half astonished and 
half inquiringly, as much as to say : ' Can it be 
possible that you are ignorant of the relations be- 
tween Colonel Benton and myself ? ' 

" I said : ' I understand what you mean ; I am 
perfectly well aware of the past difficulties between 
you and Mr. Benton, and the bitter personal hos- 
tility that has existed. But I want to say to you, 
that a great change has come over Colonel Benton 
since you knew him. His feelings and sentiments 
are softened. We are all getting older. Our fiery 
hot blood is getting cooled and changed. It is 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMrOIlAKIES. 227 

hardly worth while for men, when they are getting 
up pretty near the maximum of human life, to in- 
dulge in these feehngs of enmity and ill-will. It 
is a thing that we ought to rid ourselves of. Col- 
onel Benton and I have been engaged in a war 
of words, as you and he have ; and, up to two or 
three years ago, we went out of the same door for 
years without so much as saying ' Good-morning * 
to one another. Now, I do not know a man in the 
Senate to whom I would go with more certainty of 
having a favor granted than to Colonel Benton. 
He feels that age is coming upon him, and he is 
reconciled to many of his bitterest opponents. 

" ' Is thy servant a dog,' replied Wilson, ' that 
he should do this thing ? I would not have a let- 
ter from him, I would not speak to him, I would 
not be beholden to him for a favor, — not to save 
the life of every member of my family ! No, sir ! 
The thought of it makes me shudder. I feel indig- 
nant at the mention of it. / take a letter from 
Mr. Benton ? I — ' 

" ' Stop, stop ! ' said I ; * that is the old man speak- 
ing in you. That is not the spirit in which to in- 
dulge. I know how you feel.' And while he was 
raving and protesting and declaring, by all the saints 
in the calendar, his purpose to accept no favor from 
Colonel Benton, I turned round to my desk, and 
addressed a note to Benton, something like this : 

Dear Sir, — I am well aware of the disputes, personal 
and political, which have taken place between yourself and 
the bearer of this note, Mr. John Wilson. But the old gen- 
tleman is now poor, and is going to California, and needs a 



228 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

letter of recommendation. I know nobody in California to 
whom I could address a letter that would be of any service 
to him. You know everybody, and a letter from you would 
do him a great deal of good. I have assured Mr. Wilson 
that it will give you more pleasure to forget what has passed 
between you and him, and to give him a letter that will do 
him good, than it will hitn to receive it. I am going to per- 
suade him to carry you this note, and I know you will be 
glad to see him. 

" Wilson got through protesting, and I read him 
the note. Then I said : — 

" ' I want you to carry it to Benton.' 

" ' I won't ! ' he repHed. 

" I coaxed and scolded and reasoned, and brought 
every consideration, — death, eternity, and every 
thing else, — to bear ; but it seemed to be of no 
use. Said I : — 

" ' Wilson, you will regret it.' 

" After a while he got a little softened, and some 
tears flowed ; and at last I made him promise, 
rather reluctantly, that he would deliver the note 
at Colonel Benton's door, if he did not do any 
more. He told me afterwards that it was the bit- 
terest pill he ever swallowed. Colonel Benton's 
house was not far from mine. Wilson took the 
note, and, as he afterwards told me, went up with 
trembling hands, put the note, with his own card, 
into the hand of the girl who came to the door, and 
ran away to his lodgings. He had been scarcely 
half an hour in his room, trembling to think what 
he had done, when a note came from Colonel Ben- 
ton, saying he had received the card and note, and 
that Mrs. Benton and himself would have much 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. 229 

pleasure in receiving Mr. Wilson at Jreakfast, at 
nine o'clock, the next morning. Tliej would wait 
breakfast for him, and no answer T''as expected ! 

" ^ The idea ! ' said he to himself, ' that I am 
going to breakfast with Tom Benton ! John Wil- 
son ! what will people say ; and what shall I say ? 
The thing is not to be thought of. And yet I 
must. I have delivered the note, and sent my 
card ; if I don't go now, it will be rude. I wish I 
had not taken it. It doesn't seem to me as if I 
could go and sit there at that table.' ' I lay awake,' 
said he afterwards, to me, ^ that night, thinking of 
it ; and in the morning I felt as a man might feel 
who had had sentence of death passed upon him, 
and was called by the turnkey to get up for his last 
breakfast. I rose, however, made my toilet, and, 
after hesitating a great deal, went to Colonel Ben- 
ton's house. My hands trembled as I rang the bell. 
Instead of the servant, the colonel himself came to 
the door. He took me cordially by both hands, 
and said : " Wilson, I am delighted to see you ; this 
is the happiest meeting I have had for twenty 
years. Give me your hand. Webster has done 
the kindest thing he ever did in his life." Leading 
me directly to the dining-room, he presented me 
to Mrs. Benton, and then we sat down to break- 
fast. After inquiring kindly about my family, he 
said : " You and I, Wilson, have been quarrelling 
on the stump for twenty-five years. We have 
been calling each other hard names, but really 
with no want of mutual respect and confidence. 
It has been a mere foolish political fight, and let's 



230 reminiscencp:s of daniel webster. 

wipe it out of mind. Every thing that I have said 
about you I ask your pardon for." We both cried 
a httle, and I asked his pardon, and we were good 
friends. We talked over old matters, and spent 
the morning till twelve o'clock in pleasant conver- 
sation. Nothing was said of the letter, until just 
as I was about departing. He turned to his desk, 
and said : " I have prepared some letters for you to 
my son-in-law and other friends in California j " 
and he handed out 7iine sheets of foolscap. 

" ' It was not a letter, but a ukase ; a command to 
" every person to whom these presents shall come, 
greeting ; " it was to the effect that whoever re- 
ceived them must give special attention to the 
wants of his particular friend. Colonel John Wilson, 
of Saint Louis. Every thing was to give w^ay to 
that. He put them into my hands, and I thanked 
him, and left.'" 

Mr. Webster continued : " Colonel Benton after- 
wards came to me, and said : ' Webster, that was 
the kindest thing you ever did. God bless you for 
sending John Wilson to me ! That is one trouble- 
some thing off my mind. That was kind, Webster., 
Let us get these things off our minds as fast as we 
can ; we have not much longer to stay ; we have 
got pretty near the end ; we want to go into the 
presence of our Maker with as little of enmity in 
our hearts as possible.' 

" I told him how much pleasure it gave me to 
reconcile persons who had been alienated. It was 
better than a great senatorial triumph. ' And now,' 
I added, ' I have one other thing in my heart, and 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. 231 

I am determined to bring it to pass. We have 
talked these matters over, — of how little conse- 
quence are all these personal bickerings and strifes 
to a man when he gets near the end of life. What 
are all these honors and contests to a man when 
the interests of the future life begin to magnify in 
his eyes, and those of this life to dwindle away? 
Now, colonel, look at me. You have been a great 
many years in the United States Senate, and your 
relations to Mr. Calhoun are not friendly. I want 
to reconcile you and Mr. Calhoun, and then I shall 
be content ! ' 

" ' Webster,' he replied, curtly, ^ don't you men- 
tion that to me ! Anybody else — anybody ; you 
may tell me to go and ask the pardon of a negro 
in the jail, and I will go and do it. But I won't 
be reconciled to Calhoun, — I won't, sir ! Calhoun 
is a humbug. I won't have any thing to do with 
him, — I won't, sir ! My mind is made up. Any- 
body else, but not Calhoun. He is a humbug, and 
I won't do it, sir ! ' " 

Mr. Webster said that when Mr. Calhoun's hfe- 
less body was brought into the Senate, the com- 
mittee of arrangements who had charge of such 
matters of course selected from the contemporaries 
of Mr. Calhoun such gentlemen as they thought 
would esteem it a privilege to speak. 

"I never in my life," said Mr. Webster, "per- 
formed a more pleasing duty at a service of that 
kind, — solemn and touching ; for I had very great 
respect for Mr. Calhoun. He was a man of great 
worth, most sincere, upright, — and with all the 



232 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

qualities, not only of a very great man, but of a 
very estimable one." 

The committee invited Colonel Benton to speak, 
not with the expectation that he would consent to 
do so, but because they thought it was due to his 
age that he should have an opportunity at such an 
hour, when every thing should be banished from 
the heart but kindness, to say a word. But he 
declined without comment. Mr. Webster said : 

" His seat was directly opposite mine, and while 
I was making the few remarks which the state of 
my feelings would allow, I looked across, and saw 
that Benton had his back turned to the Senate, and 
was twirling his spectacles inattentively. So strong 
was the feeling of dislike which he entertained for 
Mr. Calhoun." 

Mr. Benton had all sorts of knowledge, and 
seemed to have acquired more political facts than 
any man Mr. Webster had ever met ; even more 
than John Quincy Adams. He had a wonderful 
memory, and read every thing ; and gave his 
whole time and attention to politics, never prac- 
tising his profession. During the discussions on 
the Oregon bill, Mr. Benton made a speech, as did 
many other members ; and near the close of the 
debate Mr. Webster was about to speak, and 
wanted to get a book, of which he had an indis- 
tinct recollection, for some geographical fact to 
illustrate a point in his remarks. It was something 
that he had seen a great many years before in a 
book which was now probably out of print. He 
only knew the name of its author, but he set to 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CGNTEMPORARIES. 233 

work to find it. He asked Peter Force, who had 
collected a great political library at Washington ; 
but Mr. Force could not find it. He then got the 
librarian of Congress to hunt for it ; but he, also, 
had no success. Mr. Webster was about giving it 
up in despair, when it occurred to him to speak to 
Benton, He went to him, and said : — 

" You know every thing, colonel, and where 
every thing is. Have you any recollection or 
knowledge of such a geography, such a book, or 
such an author ? " 

The colonel stopped a moment to think, and 
then replied : — 

" I know what you want ; I'll see if I can find it." 

An hour afterwards, Mr. Webster, having left the 
Senate, returned to his seat ; and, as he said to 
me, " There, lying on my desk, was an immense 
book, with a leaf turned down to the place that I 
wanted to find, although I had not said a word as 
to the particular part of the book I wanted to con- 
sult. Without any suggestion of mine, Mr. Benton 
had guessed at what I wanted, and turned down the 
leaf. I looked up from my desk to his, and there 
he was, bowing to me, as if to say, ' That's it.' I 
do not suppose there was another man who could 
have found that book for me." 

Of Silas Wright, Mr. Webster had a very poor 
opinion. 

" He is the most over-rated man," said he, " that 
I have ever met. He is oracular, wise-looking, 
taciturn, and cunning as a fox. He was the most 
inferior man in debate that sat in the Senate. You 



234 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

have seen boys at school who would contrive in 
some way to skip the hard spelling. He always 
skipped the hard places. His arguments, besides 
being weak and fallacious, were always evasive. 
He would try to make the crowd think he had 
answered, when he had not touched the point. In 
my judgment he was a very small man, — a mere 
politician, and no statesman." 

Of James Buchanan he said : — 

" Buchanan is a good politician, but he is no 
statesman. He merely looks at things as they 
affect the party." 

Mr. Webster always cherished a very profound 
regard and love for Rufus Choate. No man lived 
for whom he had more affection. This regard was 
heartily reciprocated. Mr. Choate could always 
be relied upon to serve Mr. Webster's interests, 
and his friendship and advocacy of Mr. Webster 
were valuable, because there were few other such 
men as he. Mr. Webster used often to send to 
Mr. Choate for advice ; and I was frequently the 
bearer of messages requesting Mr. Choate's counsel 
upon matters more particularly connected with Mr. 
Webster's political prospects and plans. Their con- 
fidence in this respect was complete. Mr. Web- 
ster used to talk of Choate a great deal ; and, after 
he had been away, on his return one of his first 
inquiries would be, "How is Choate?" When I 
visited him at Washington, on one occasion, I recol- 
lect Choate was the first person he inquired about. 
We were driving out one afternoon, and he began 
talking about Choate. 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. LJ35 

I said : " There are many persons in the profes- 
sion who envy and slander him, and attempt to 
make light of and to ridicule his elocution." 

" When I was a young man," responded Mr. 
Webster, " and first entered the law, my style oi 
oratory was as round and florid as Choate's. I do 
not think it is the best. It is not according to 
my taste. But then there is no man in the world 
beside Choate who could succeed with that style. 
It is his own. It is peculiar to him. It is as nat- 
ural to him as any constitutional trait about him. 
Nobody can imitate him. He imitates nobody. 
And his style is most effective. I have had occa- 
sion to know, and I can say to those who criticise 
him what they themselves know, that, had they 
the power to use his style of eloquence, they would 
not be long in forgetting its bad taste, and would 
soon be using it for the benefit of their clients. 
It is a great mistake to suppose that Mr. Choate, 
in that flowery elocution, does not keep his logic 
all right. Amid all that pile of flowers there is a 
strong, firm chain of logic. He never loses sight 
of that. He never forgets that, or is carried away 
from it. He is very keen and very effective." 

When Judge Woodbury died, in 1851, and there 
was therefore a vacancy in the United States Su- 
preme Court, something was said about conferring 
the appointment on Mr. Choate, and Mr. Webster 
said : — 

" Mr. Choate will have the offer of this, but I do 
not know as he will take it. The offer is due to 
him as the first lawyer in New England. I shaU 
make him the offer." 



236 liEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

And he did ; but Mr. Choate declined to take it. 

Mr. Webster related to me an interesting inci- 
dent relative to his first introduction to Senator 
Preston, of South Carolina. Mr. Preston was a 
grandson of Patrick Henry, and was said to be, in 
some respects, the most eloquent man in the United 
States Senate ; he certainly was a brilliant man 
and a great declaimer. In nullificatioa times, Mr. 
Preston was a nullifier, a disciple of Calhoun. After 
the great debate on Footers resolutions between 
Hayne and Webster, Preston changed his views, 
and became a Unionist. Party politics were divided 
in South Carolina differently from what they were 
in any other part of the country. There were the 
nullifiers, or States' -rights party, and the Demo- 
crats. There was no Whig party there. Preston 
belonged to the States'-rights or Calhoun party. 
That party embraced the talent and nearly all the 
brilHant men in South Carolina, including Gover- 
nors Hayne and McDuffie. After the great debate 
between Hayne and Webster, there was a marked 
revolution of feeling in all parts of the country, 
even in South Carolina itself. Some of the ablest 
men in that State, who were honest in their views, 
and among them Mr. Preston, became satisfied that 
their position was wrong. Mr. Preston had not 
then come into public life, had never been in Con- 
gress ; but he was, some years after that, elected to 
the United States Senate as a Union man. When 
he fij'st went to Washington, he had never seen 
Mr. Webster ; but soon after his arrival they were 
at some house, by invitation, and he was intro- 



JIR. WEBSTER AND IHS CONTEMPORARIES. 237 

duced to Mr. Webster. After the ordinary court- 
esies of an introduction had been exchanged, the 
conversation dropped ; but Mr. Webster noticed 
that Preston was scrutinizing him, and gazing at 
him in a manner which was almost rude. Preston 
said nothing, but did not remove his eyes from Mr. 
Webster's person. Mr. Webster felt a little annoyed 
at that sort of staring; and, as it was continued 
for a minute or more, he turned upon his heel and 
went to some other part of the room : but, in a 
moment, Mr. Preston came up to him, and said : 

" Excuse me, Mr. Webster, for what may seem to 
be my rudeness in gazing at you. My apology is 
this. I have had a very strong desire to meet you, 
and have anticipated with a great deal of pleasure 
the event of seeing you, and of gazing for the first 
time upon the man who cured me of that abomina- 
ble heresy, nullification. You were to me what 
God was to St. Paul ; I was travelling in the way, 
verily thinking I was doing God service, when the 
light burst upon me, the scales fell, and I saw the 
truth." 

George Evans was a personal and political friend 
of Mr. Webster, but opposed his nomination at Bal- 
timore, in 1852, and went with the Maine delegation 
for General Scott. Among the many unpleasant in- 
cidents of that convention, — old friends deserting 
him and the like, — this affected Mr. Webster more 
than any thing. It wounded him, and he very sel- 
dom spoke of it without considerable feeling. Mr. 
Evans was one of the few men whom he regarded 
as liis equals in the Senate. They were on inti- 



238 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

mate social relations, constantly at each other's 
houses. Mr. Evans would go into Mr. Webster's 
almost like a brother, and stop to dine and chat. 
He was always most profuse in his protestations of 
regard for, and interest in, Mr. Webster ; and the 
feeling was reciprocated. The greatest compli- 
ment ever paid to Evans was by Mr. Webster, just 
before leaving the Senate ; when he spoke of the 
retirement of Mr. 'Evans from that body. Mr. 
Webster said that " The country would lose the 
services of the distinguished Senator from Maine, 
who had been Chairman of the Committee on 
Commerce, and whose reports were models, long 
unsurpassed in ability, on the subject of Finance. 
The country had more to regret than the gentle- 
man, in losing the services of such a man at such 
a time." 

Mr. Evans went into the Baltimore Convention, 
and worked with all his might for the nomination 
of Scott. The only reason he gave was, that it was 
of no use, they could not nominate Webster ; that 
it lay between Scott and Fillmore, and that Scott 
was the most available man. My comment was, 
that a man who held that relation of close friendship 
should, from good faith, whatever he might have 
thought, have stood by the man who had been his 
friend, as Mr. Webster had been to Mr. Evans. But 
he looked upon his duty in a different light. Mr. 
Webster could hardly believe that Evans would go 
into the Convention from Maine against him, al- 
though he was elected as a Scott delegate ; and he 
never believed, up to the time that the Convention 



MR. WEBSTER z\ND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. 239 

met, that Evans would be found opposed to him. 
He thought Evans had taken the nomination as a 
Scott man, and that he would figure for Webster 
when it came to the vote. Evans was made tempo- 
rary chairman by the Scott delegates, and acted all 
through with them. I think Mr. Webster never 
saw him after that. After Mr. Webster's return 
liome in July, in speaking as he did frequently 
and freely to me of that Convention, its doingfs, 
and the part men took in it, he did not show the 
slightest bitterness. He never uttered one word 
of reproach against anybody. When I was pretty 
severe in my comments upon some of the men, he 
would say : — 

" Well, they were perhaps acting conscientiously, 
and did what they deemed to be their duty ; and 
in this they did right. We must not be too harsh, 
or judge them too severely ; we must make allow- 
ance for the selfishness of public men. They 
thought, perhaps, that their own prospects might 
be injured by advocating the interest of a man 
who was not likely to be successful in the Con- 
vention." 

I told him that if we could have got the Maine 
delegation, her thirty-three votes, with the South- 
ern votes that we knew we could get when they 
were needed, would have nominated him. 

" I could not have believed," he replied, " that 
George Evans would have gone against me under 
those circumstances ; I never could have believed 
that he would be found working; aijraiust me." This 
he said with a srood deal of feelino;. 



240 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

i( I regret more than I can express," he added. 
" that it was done by my friend ; by a man that 1 
esteemed as one of my warmest and best friends. 
But that has passed ; he probably thought he was 
acting honorably. He had a perfect right to do it, 
and I have no right to complain. Let it go." 

For Mr. Hiram Ketchum Mr. Webster had a 
great regard. He told me once that there was no- 
body in whom he felt so much confidence, in polit- 
ical matters, as in him. He did not have a very 
exalted opinion of New York politicians generally, 
but made an exception in favor of Mr. Ketchum. 
Blatchford, too, — w^ho never professed to be much 
of a politician, and with whom in political matters 
Mr. Webster did not have much to do, — won his 
esteem and confidence. He was a disinterested, 
warm, true, personal friend. Their correspondence 
shows the cordial feeling which existed between 
them. 

Mr. Webster had cordial and friendly relations, 
while in the Senate, with many of the most promi- 
nent and earnest of his political opponents. The 
following letter written by him to Hon. Daniel S. 
Dickinson, on Mr. Webster's retirement from the 
Senate and acceptance of the office of Secretary 
of State, shows that, while there had once been 
serious differences between the two statesmen, 
their later intercourse had been of the kind- 
liest : — 

Washington, Sept. 27, 1850. 

My Dbar Sir, — Our companionship in the Senate is dis- 
solved. After this long and moat important session, you are 



MK. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. 241 

about to return to your home ; and I shall try to find leisure 
to visit mine. I hope we may meet each other again two 
months hence, for the discharge of our duties, in our respec- 
tive stations in the Goveriunent. But life is luicertain ; and 
I have not felt willing to take leave of you without placing 
in your hands a note, containing a few words which I wish 
to say to you. 

In the earlier part of our acquaintance, my dear sir, occur- 
reuces took place which I remember with constantly increas- 
ing regret and pain ; because, the more I have known of you, 
the greater have been my esteem for your character and my 
respect for your talents. But it is your noble, able, manly, 
and patriotic conduct, in support of the great measure of 
this session, which has entirely won my heart and secured 
my highest regard. I hope you may live long to serve your 
country ; but I do not think you are ever likely to see a 
crisis in which you may be able to do so much, either for 
your own distinction or the public good. You have stood 
Avhere others have fallen ; you have advanced, with firm and 
manly step, where others have wavered, faltered, and fallen 
back ; and for one, I desire to thank you, and to commend 
your conduct, out of the fulness of an honest heart. 

This letter needs no reply ; it is, I am aware, of very little 
value ; but I have thought you might be willing to receive 
it, and perhaps to leave it where it would be seen by those 
who shall come after you. I pray you, when you reach your 
own threshold, to remember me most kindly to your wife 
and daughter. I remain, my dear sir, with the truest es- 
teem. 

Your friend and obedient servant, 

Daniel Websteb. 
Hon. Daniel S. Dickinson, U. S. Senate. 

Speaking once of Senator Thomas J. Rusk, of 
Texas, Mr. Webster said : — 

" Good sometimes comes out of evil. How 

earnestly we opposed the admission of Texas, and 

how deeply the countiy felt that we were taking 

iti 



242 REMINISCENCIi:S OF DANIEL AVEBSTER. 

a stranger into our family that was not of us, and 
that we were going to bring into Congress the rep- 
resentatives of a people entirely unlike ourselves ! 
Just think of it ! There is Texas, whose first sen- 
ators are Houston and Rusk, who, in all the legisla- 
tion in which they have been called upon to act, have 
represented their State as well as any State in the 
Union has been represented. Rusk is one of the 
very first men in the Senate. He is a man of per- 
fect integrity, and of a very high order of ability. 
I like him very much. So we see that the things 
which we sometimes think are going to injure us the 
most are really blessings. Providence overrules. 
In many emergencies we could hardly have done 
without the conservative vote of Texas. She has 
alwaj^s been in favor of conservative measures. 
She went for the Washington Treaty; and, on all 
measures calculated to strengthen the condition of 
the whole country, we have found Texas with us." 
For Samuel A. Eliot Mr. Webster had a very 
warm friendship. Mr. Eliot stood by him when he 
came to Congress for the short term, during the 
discussion of the Compromise Measures. Mr. Web- 
ster was actively engaged in carrying those meas- 
ures through, and he used to say that he got great 
aid and comfort from Samuel A. Eliot. Mr. Eliot 
was a man who had decided opinions of his own, 
and who asked no favors. He went to Washing- 
ton to do what he thought was right, and did it 
boldly and fearlessly. He was not a politician, and 
did not think about how he was to get re-elected. 
He had nothing to do but what he considered his 



i 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. 243 

duly, and he did it bravely. I said to Mr. Webster 
something about a pubhc dinner on the anniversary 
of the 7th of March, and he wrote to me : — 

" If any thing of that kind is proposed to me, — 
which I do not seek, — I shall certainly take no 
compliment of that kind, unless Mr. Eliot is in- 
cluded. Every thing is due to him that is to any 
body. He has been faithful and true, and deserv- 
ing of all the honor that can be given him in that 
way." 

In the autumn of 1850, Mr. Webster was at the 
North, as usual, spending his time between Marsh- 
field and New Hampshire. The Democrats of New 
Hampshire, who had always before treated him 
with a good deal of coldness and abuse, were very 
lavish in their attentions and kindness. They 
seemed to have changed ; there was a returning 
warmth and sympathy among them, and he re- 
ceived cordial letters from a good many of them. 
He received one from Isaac Hill, with whom his 
relations had been any thing but friendly, asking 
his pardon, and assuring him of his respect and 
good wishes. While he and Mrs. Webster were 
spending a few days at Franklin, I went up there 
to visit them ; and he told me that he had calls 
from two or three of the leading men of New 
Hampshire almost daily. They would drive over 
from Concord and have a pleasant chat ; and these 
visits were very grateful to Mr. Webster. I had 
returned to Boston, and been at home only two or 
three days, when, on a Friday night, I received a 
telegraphic despatch from Mr. Webster, saying : " If 



244 REiMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

possible, you will oblige me very much by taking 
the early train to-morrow morning and coming up 
here." I did not know why the summons came, 
but supposed he might wish some company over 
Sunday; and I went, although I had so recently 
visited him. I made my arrangements, and left in 
the early train. Nothing particular happened on 
the way up, till the train stopped at Manchester. 
There I saw quite a number of gentlemen get into 
the car in which I was, — men whom I knew by 
sight, and only by sight. There was one tall, strik- 
ing looking man, whom I knew as Squire , 

the father-in-law of Isaac Hill ; and also his son 
and Senator Norris. The train went on and 
stopped at Concord, and many others got in; 
among them General Pierce. There were in the 
car General Low, Judge Hubbell, and Isaac Hill, 
and twenty-five more of the leading men of the 
State. I did not know what was going on ; but 
finally General Low came and sat on the seat 
with me. 

" Going up to Franklin, I suppose," said he. 
" I guess we shall have a pretty good time." 

" Where are you going ? " I asked. 

" We are going up to dine with Mr. Webster," 
he replied. 

It was a very rainy day, but the rain was warm 
and pleasant ; and as the railroad track ran right 
by Mr. Webster's place, a station was established 
there, called the " Webster Station," There we 
stopped, and all jumped out and went into the 
house. I carried up the news of the nomination 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. 245 

of William Appleton for Congress from the Fifth 
District. 

Mr. Webster seemed perfectly happy, and, in- 
deed, he said to me : — 

" How happy I am here ! This is where I breathe 
my native air. I am in better health here. There 
is something in the air that invigorates me ; dis- 
ease doesn't seem to flourish here." 

He was most cordial and delightful to his guests. 
They were all highly pleased. He went through 
the various rooms, making everybody feel at home, 
and chatting with each guest by turns. The din- 
ner-hour was announced. Mr. Webster said to 
me : — 

" You take General Pierce and Senator Norris 
up to that end of the table [there were fifty or 
sixty people] ; go up there and seat yourself and 
them." 

Previous to that, General Pierce had come to me, 
Mr. Webster having made us mutually acquainted, 
full of enthusiasm about Mr. Webster ; and, taking 
me aside, said : — 

" I am going to write a toast." 

He took a pen and dashed off a very compli- 
mentary and enthusiastic toast, and gave it to me 
to show to Mr. Webster. I went down into the 
kitchen, where Mr. Webster was supervising the 
arrangements for dinner. 

" General Pierce has written a toast to call you 
out," I said. 

"•' Oh ! " replied he, " have nothing of that kind. 
1 have invited my old friends and neighbors, just 



246 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

to pay my respects to them and receive their kind 
wishes. It would not be in good taste to make 
labored speeches." 

I returned to General Pierce, and told him that 
Mr. Webster preferred to have nothing of the kind. 

" He has got to make a speech," replied the gen 
eral. " There will be two speeches made to-day, 
— one I will make, and one he must make." 

I went back and told Mr. Webster what Gen- 
eral Pierce's determination was. 

" Well, then," said he, " tell him to come on. 
If that is the decision, I am prepared to abide 
by it." 
j I returned again, and told this to General Pierce. 
Then we went into the library and called out 
Squire , to whom General Pierce said : — 

" You are the head of the Democracy in New 
Hampshire : physically you are a head taller, and 
democratically you are three heads taller, than any 
man in the State. We want to corner Mr. Web- 
ster with a sentiment. I have prepared one, and 
I want you to propose it. It will come with grace 
and propriety from you." 

The squire read it, and replied : — 

" I approve of it with all my heart." 

" Well," said Pierce, " when the dinner is over, 
rise and propose that." 

" I will do so," replied he, " with the greatest 
pleasure." 

I sat at one end of the table, and there were Mr. 
Green, Dr. Wood, and two or three clergymen near. 
Mr. Webster called upon a venerable clerg^^mau 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. 24? 

to ask a blessing, and lie made a very impressive 
and appropriate prayer. The dinner was very 
informal. It was a plain, nicely-cooked, country 
dinner. At my end of the table there was a leg 
of roast mutton, and at the other end a piece of 
roast beef. When the roast meats were removed, 
tliere was a course of poultry. Some of it had 
been brought on and removed; but there were 
still some roast chickens to come, when old Squire 

, thinking the dinner was over, got up, and 

put on his spectacles. Pierce whispered to me : 

" He thinks the dinner is over, and he is going 
to give his toast. Let's see what Mr. Webster 
will do." 

So the squire read his toast, and there was a 
great hurrah, with three cheers for Mr. Webster. 
General Pierce was much amused, and was very 
curious to see how Mr. Webster would get over 
the matter. He rose, wearing his peculiar air of 
dignity and simplicity which made you feel a sort 
of awe and reverence. He bowed, and with con- 
siderable emotion thanked his venerable friend for 
the kind sentiment he had pronounced, and his 
friends around the table for the warm response 
they had given to the sentiment. Then he stopped, 
with one of his peculiar expressions, and added : 

" I believe that John Taylor has some nice roast 
chickens that he proposes to let us try ; and after 
he has done so, I will endeavor to respond to the 
sentiment." 

He sat down amid some laughter, but the squire 
was not at all embarrassed. The chickens were 



248 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

brought on ; and when the dinner was over, Mr 
Webster rose and made a speech, — such a speech 
as I never heard before nor since. It was an ad- 
dress that ought to be preserved in its fulness. It 
was one of the most touching and beautiful ever 
made, even by him. The circumstances under 
which it was made were very peculiar. It was at 
the close of an extraordinary career. Up in that 
little hamlet which he had left some half a cent- 
ury before, penniless, unknown to fame and to the 
world, without friends or patronage, he was now 
closing his illustrious career, receiving the benedic- 
tions of men who had opposed him throughout his 
political life from what they deemed true principles. 
They seemed to have come almost to admit the 
wrong they had done him. He had not changed ; 
they had. He referred to that fact in his speech. 
He said that in some respects this was the best, and 
in others the saddest, day of his life. As life ad- 
vanced, and as he approached the end of his term 
on earth, — which he felt was not very far distant, 
— there was something peculiarly dear to him in 
the scenes of his early life. He said that every 
blade of grass that grew about that spot seemed 
to have an interest for him. There was no spot 
on earth he loved so much. Pointing out of the 
window to the graves of his father and mother, 
which were marked by simple white stones, he said 
that this was the house in which those who gave 
him birth, the authors of his existence, had lived 
and died ; from that spot they were buried, and 
their dust reposed within our present sight. He 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. 249 

said that, after having passed through a stormy 
pohtical quarrel, he had always turned his steps to 
that loved spot. Every year he visited those graves 
and called to mind the remembrance of the virtues 
of those who once inhabited that house ; and yet 
even this pious pilgrimage had been made the sub- 
ject of political abuse. He had been accused of 
ambition, of selfishness ; and he could not say that 
he did not feel keenly the injustice of such treat- 
ment, — treatment that he would rather have re- 
ceived from any other people that the sun shone 
upon than the people of New Hampshire. 

" I felt sure," he went on, " that my motives, as 
a public man, which had been misrepresented, would 
at last have justice done to them, because my mo- 
tives throughout my public career have been pure ; 
but I did not expect to live to see it. I did not 
expect to live to see what I see here to-day, — 
this acknow^'edgment of the honesty of my course. 
I thought it would come, but I thought it would 
come after I was gone. It has come in my life- 
time, and sooner than I expected ; and I thank 
you, gentlemen, and I thank my God, that it 
has come. This has been a day ftdl of pleasant 
memories." 

He proceeded to pronounce a eulogy upon the 
virtues of his parents, and again thanked the 
company for their visit and their attention. That 
great man standing there, with but two persons 
about him who were not politically opposed to 
him, — myself and a kinsman of his, Worcester 
Webster, — all the rest being Democrats, ex- 



250 KEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

hibited to all the greatest tenderness and gen- 
tleness. After alluding, in the concluding por- 
tion of his speech, to the Compromise Measures, 
which had led to his 7th of March speech, 
wliich was now creating a good deal of feeling 
in the country, he closed by offering a sentiment 
complimentary to Senator Norris, who sat on my 
left, and who was a plain, sensible man, but not a 
great speech-maker. 

Mr. Webster said that " New Hampshire had 
true men in the councils of the nation ; and he 
wished to bear testimony that day, in the presence 
of some of his constituents, to the fidelity and 
patriotism of one of their Senators, who was his 
guest to-day. Mr. Norris had stood in no little 
peril, so far as his political career was concerned ; 
but he had acted conscientiously, and from a high 
sense of duty and patriotism, in his vote in favor 
of the Compromise Measures ; and he was sure 
that, whatever the result might be, Mr. Norris 
would have the consciousness of having done his 
duty to his country, — which was really of more 
value to an upright public man than popular 
applause." 

" Come, Norris," said General Pierce, " get up 
now and make a speech ; you will never have such 
a compliment as that again." 

Mr. Norris arose, and made an appropriate and 
pertinent response. 

" He considered it," he said, " a great compli- 
ment to be thus publicly toasted in presence of the 
leading men of his State. It would not be becom- 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. 251 

ing in him to bandy compliments with the illustri- 
ous gentleman ; and he would only say that, with- 
out his strong arm and influence, those measures 
of healing would never have passed. If the weight 
of his influence had been cast in the scale of oppo- 
sition, the result would have been disastrous ; and 
what the consequences might have been, he shrank 
from predicting." 

General Pierce then rose and made one of his 
fiery, eloquent, and rather extravagant speeches. 
In the course of it he related this anecdote. He 
said that, for political effect, some resolutions were 
introduced into the New Hampshire legislature 
by the Abolitionists, denouncing the Compromise 
Measures. He had a brother in the New Hamp- 
shire legislature, a young man, and like himself a 
Democrat. It was pretty well understood that 
New Hampshire was going to repudiate the Com- 
promise Measures, and range herself on the side 
of the opposition : some of the leading Democrats, 
indeed, showing a disposition in that direction. 
He (Pierce) was trying a very important case at 
Manchester, where the court was sitting. Late 
one afternoon, a man in whom he had confidence 
came to him and said that his brother was going to 
vote for the abolition resolutions. 

" I was full of my case," added General Pierce, 
" examining my brief, and preparing for argument. 
But I did not hesitate a moment; I went to the 
railroad station, but found there was no train till 
the next morning. I made up my mind to go that 
night. I sent for the superintendent of the road, 



252 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

and asked him to carry me to Concord and bring 
me back that night. He said there would be some 
risk in running a train not set down in the time- 
table ; but I told him that I must see my brother 
before I slept. He finally consented to send me 
to Concord, where I arrived safely. I found my 
brother in bed. By this time I was a good deal 
excited. I said to him : — 

" ' Ben, they tell me you are going to vote for 
the abolition resolutions. Now, I am not here, of 
course, to dictate to you ; but if you vote for those 
resolutions, disloyal as they are to the United States, 
to the Union and the Constitution, — disloyal to 
every sentiment for which your father fought, — 
from the time that you cast a vote for those reso- 
lutions you are no brother of mine : I will never 
speak to you again.' My brother looked at me 
in some astonishment, and then said : — 

" ' You might have saved yourself all this trouble, 
for I had no more idea of voting for those resolu- 
tions than of knocking you down.' 

" I grasped him by the hand, thanked him, and 
went back to Manchester. The Compromise Meas- 
ures, which our illustrious host has perilled liis 
popularity in his adopted State by having exerted 
his influence to pass, I glory in ; they are the sal- 
vation of the Union ; and I thank him here to-day. 
They tell me that Massachusetts proposes to repu- 
diate him^ and leave him out of the councils of the 
nation. Let her do it ! Norris, you will resign ; 
and if Mr. Webster will come up here we will give 
liim a unanimous election. His mother State will 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. 253 

send him to the Senate, and feel prouder of the 
act than of any thing she has ever done. They say 
we are a small State. They say that our products 
are granite and ice. Be it so. Of one tiling, how- 
ever, New Hampshire can boast over her sister 
States, — that she has given birth to the greatest 
man, far the greatest man, that was ever born on 
this continent, and, I verily believe, on any conti- 
nent. New Hampshire bore Daniel Webster, and 
she wears that honor proudly. No State can divide 
it with her ; it is hers, and it is worth more than 
all the territory that other States may possess ! " 

This was received with great enthusiasm; and 
after some further speeches the company dis- 
persed. General Pierce remained at Franklin till 
Monday, and we had a great many pleasant chats 
together. 

On the very day that General Pierce was nomi- 
nated for the Presidency, he came into my store, 
and asked me whom I thought the Whigs would 
nominate. Their Convention was to be held a 
month later. 

" You know whom we want," I said. 

" Well," replied he, " will they nominate him ? " 

I said that I hoped, but feared, and considered 
the result doubtful. 

" There is no doubt," said he, " about what they 
ought to do." 

We walked out together, and as we approached 
the Tremont House I remarked : — 

" You will be nominated at Baltimore I should 
judge." 



254 KEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

This was the third day that his friends had been 
talking about him as a candidate. He spoke as if 
he very much doubted it ; but when we reached 
the Tremont House, the news had arrived of his 
nomination. 

*' Well, " said he, " all I can say is, and I say 
it in sincerity, if the people of the United States 
were to repudiate caucuses, conventions, politi- 
cians, and tricksters, and rise in the glory of their 
strength and might, without waiting for any con- 
ventions to designate a candidate, but bent on 
placing in the Presidential chair the first citizen 
and statesman, the first patriot and man, Daniel 
Webster, — it would do for republican government 
more than any event which has taken place in the 
history of the world. Those are my sentiments, 
democracy or no democracy." 

General Pierce felt under great obligation to Mr. 
Webster ; he was true to his memory ; he was true 
to the bond of personal friendship which existed 
between them. Notwithstanding the objections 
of some of his Democratic friends. General Pierce 
showed a real constancy and devotion in his re- 
gard for Mr. Webster. In the general's speech at 
Franklin, he referred to their personal acquaint- 
ance, and particularly to this incident. He was 
known to be pretty intimate at Mr. Webster's 
house in Washington. Isaac Hill was Pierce's col- 
league in the Senate of the United States ; and 
rather blamed him once or twice for his intimacy 
with Webster. This was when party spirit ran 
very high. One day he received a note from Hill, 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. 255 

in which it was hinted that he (Pierce) was rather 
too intimate at Webster's house ; and that he had 
better not go there quite so much. The note was 
answered pretty promptly, in this way : — 

" So long as I feel that the friendship and inti- 
macy of Daniel Webster are more honor to me 
than a seat in the United States Senate, as I do feel 
it, I shall not be likely to be intimidated by any 
threat like the one in your own note. You can 
take your own course ; I shall take mine." 

Mr. Webster told me of numerous conversa- 
tions which he had with Louis Philippe when in 
Europe, and among others one that occurred when 
he was presented by Mr. Cass. He did not stay 
long in Paris at this time, his family, Mrs. Paige, 
and Mrs. Appleton being with him. The etiquette 
of the court, as he was told by Mr. Cass, made it 
necessary to dress in a sort of military costume 
when he was presented. He said that General 
Cass further told him that the etiquette of the 
court was that, at the presentation, he must never 
ask questions, only answer them ; and that he 
must introduce no conversation except such as 
was elicited by questions put to him. Mr. Web- 
ster appropriately arrayed himself, and went with 
General Cass. He was ushered into a number of 
rooms, until he came to a very large but very 
plain and comfortable-looking drawing-room, in 
which were seated quite a number of ladies, in- 
cluding the queen and her daughters, — all busy, 
some writing, and some at needle-work. They 
all seemed to be on the most familiar footing 



256 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

with General Cass. The queen inquired after the 
health of his family, speaking in English. The 
young ladies engaged in the conversation, and the 
talk was very much such an one as would take 
place in a well-bred family in America. But there 
was no presentation ! In some eight or ten minutes 
a side door opened, and the king entered. 

" He was about your size," said Mr. Webster, 
speaking to me, " and wore a frock coat, a black 
cravat without a stiJffener, tied in a hard knot ; his 
collar was negligently turned down, and limber ; 
his hair was white, as indicated by the locks 
which came down from under the black wig that 
he wore. There were no ornaments about his 
person, except that there hung down at his right 
pocket a bunch of seals, attached to his watch, 
almost as big as a calf's head. He knew I was 
coming, and he approached me with a hurried step, 
while General Cass presented me. The king was 
very informal and very rapid in his movements. 
He began to ask me a succession of rapid questions 
which it was impossible for me to answer, and re- 
peated himself somewhat, speaking in English all 
the while. He said : — 

" ' I knew that you had arrived in Europe, Mr. 
Webster, and I had been looking for you, and be- 
gan to fear that you would not honor my capital 
with a visit. It would have been a source of great 
mortification to me if you had not. I know all 
about you, sir; and I am dehghted to welcome 
you to Paris. I have your speeches in my library, 
and often consult them ; on some subjects they are 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTExMPORARlES 257 

models, particularly those relating to Finance. 1 
stiuly them more than any other speeches. I know 
all about your public career. I wish to say many 
things to you, and hope I shall have an opportunity 
before you leave Paris.' 

'' The next day the ladies were presented at 
court, and on the third day we were all invited 
to dine with the king and queen ; and there I 
found every thing just as one would desire in a 
well-regulated, highly intellectual, and cultivated 
American family." 

Mr. Webster had a great many interviews with 
the king, who sent for him a number of times. 
The king told him that he saw General Washington 
return the sword of the Revolution to the Congress 
at Annapolis. He said : — 

" I saw him, as I sat upon one of the benches, — 
that great and good man, who had achieved the 
liberties of his country, and who had tasted su- 
preme power, — return his sword, in a speech 
which, for sublimity and grandeur, has never been 
surpassed. I can see him now, so deeply is the 
scene impressed upon my memory, and could, 
were I master of the pencil, delineate his persomd 
appearance, even to the very turn of his shoe- 
buckle. I could almost give every hair of his 
head faithfully, so deeply was the scene impressed 
upon me." 

The king spoke of Washington as the most ex- 
traordinary man who had ever hved. Mr. Webster 
added : — 

^' When I heard, in such a presence and by such 

17 



2oS KEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

a person, — then the most intelligent, most poAver- 
f ul, and best-informed sovereign in Europe, — so 
high a eiilog}^ and so noble a recognition of the 
merits of the father of my country, it made me 
prouder of my country than any thing that had 
been said or done during my absence from it." 

Mr. Webster heard Lord Lyndhurst make a 
speech in the House of Lords, which Avas a thing 
of rare occurrence, as he seldom spoke after re- 
tiring from the chancellorship, except when the 
House was divided upon some important occa- 
sion. Mr. Webster went to the House with Lord 
Brougham, who said he had not seen it so full for 
three years. The crowd was brought out by the 
fame of Lord Lyndhurst, who was the leading 
debater on the Tory side. 

'•The question," said Mr. Webster, "T hardly 
remember. It was a matter in which I felt no 
interest; but I felt great interest in the debate. 
I took particular notice of Lord Lyndhurst. He 
wore a gray frock-coat ; and, after he rose to ad- 
dress the Peers, he spoke for forty-five or fifty 
minutes, moving scarcely more than a statue. He 
only moved his right hand to his left breast occa- 
sionally, and so lightly and easily that the wrinkle 
in the lap of his coat was hardly disturbed." 

I asked Mr. Webster how Lyndhurst impressed 

hmi. 

'•' His style," was the reply, "was conversational, 
argumentative, logical, without any attempt at 
brilliancy or rhetoric. One great merit of his 
speech was, that, in discussing the different points, 



MK. WEBSTER AND HIS COXTEMPORAKIES. 259 

he seemed always to stop when he got througli. 
He did not use a superfluous Avord or argument. 

•• Lord Brougham told me," added Mr. Webster, 
speaking of the debaters in the House of Lords, 
*•' that my countrj-man, Lord Lyndhurst,' was, he 
thought, the ablest debater in the House of Lords ; 
and I rather think that would have been the opin- 
ion of a majority of the ablest men of England." 

Mr. Webster vsaid he was very much disappointed 
in Lord Brougham, who was one of the men whom 
he had felt an intense interest and curiosity to see ; 
because he was a famous lawyer, and had occupied 
a very important place for many years, both in the 
legal profession of England and in the Parliament- 
ary discussions. Mr. Webster had some corre- 
spondence with him, and felt a friendship for 
him. He said, however, that Brougham's personal 
appearance and manners were not equal to his 
reputation. He was rather a trifler in manner, — 
something of a coxcomb, — and dressed peculiarly. 
He seemed, from his general tone, to be vain. 
He was very kind to Mr. Webster, and olfered him 

I every facility for seeing every thing and every- 
body. Among other attentions, he was invited to 
dine with the Duke of Buckingham at the London 

I Tavern, on white bait, Mr. Webster had so many 
engagements that it was rather inconvenient for 
him to accept this courtesy. He was about to de- 
cline, and expressed his intention of doing so to 
Lord Brougham. Brougham replied : — 

1 John Singleton Copley (Lord Lyndhurst), son of tiie painter of that 
name, was boru in Boston, 1772. 



260 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

" I beg that you won't decline ; the dmner was 
made chiefly for you. I wish you would go." 

Mr. Webster accepted and went to the dinner, 
which was rather an agreeable one. 

Lord Brougham took him to the courts, and of 
course he was much impressed with the relations 
between the ex-Chancellor and the judges. When 
Mr. Webster went into the Court of King's Bench, 
the judges insisted upon his sitting on the bench 
beside them. One night, in the House of Lords, 
Lord Brougham insisted upon his taking one of the 
niches that were reserved for very distinguished 
persons, — such as the royal family, or noblemen 
of another country. But Mr. Webster asked to be 
excused, as he said he should prefer to have an 
unobtrusive place and take a quiet view of the 
House and its proceedings. He was much struck 
with the novelty of the mode of doing business ; 
and, among other things, noticed that there was a 
constant appeal to " the noble and learned lord " 
(Brougham), to know what the law was on the 
subject in debate. Brougham would state the law, 
and that seemed to settle the point without further 
discussion. On the evening that he was introduced, 
he had been dining with Lord Brougham, who was 
in especial good humor, and disposed to be facetious. 
He had been appealed to several times for his opin- 
ion on legal points, when he rose and said : — 

" If it should have happened that a stranger to 
our mode of proceeding — a member, for instance, 
of a distinguished legislative body from another 
country — should be here to-night ; if any such 



MR. WEBSTER AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. tl(j\ 

person were within the sound of my voice, from 
what has taken place here to-night he might 
imagine that I was the most important personage 
in your lordships' House. I should say to that 
person, if he should draw any inference like this, 
that he would be very wide of the mark ; for there 
is no person who has less influence than he who is 
now addrevSsing you." 

The ardent admirers of Kossuth complained of 
Mr. Webster, that his speech at the Kossuth dinner 
in Washington was not sufficiently enthusiastic. 
No language, probably, which Mr. Webster could 
have used, consistent with his taste and prudence, 
would have satisfied the crowd, or risen to the 
boiling-point of popular enthusiasm at that time. 
He understood the character of Kossuth then as 
perfectly as the intelligent public now know it. 
From the few intimations of his opinion left on 
record, it is evident that Mr. Webster regarded 
Kossuth as a true patriot, a devoted advocate of 
liberty, and a brilliant orator ; but too impulsive 
in his feelings, too poetic in his temperament, and 
too visionary in his proposed measures, to be a safe 
leader of reform or a judicious statesman. Still, 
he admired the man, and wished success to his 
cause. Writing to Mr. Blatchford, in January, 
1852, he alludes to his dinner speech in these 
terms : — 

" I wish to act a conservative part always ; but 
then, two things I had to think of : first, to say 
nothino; inconsistent with what I have said so often 
about the principles of the Holy Alliance ; secondly, 



262 KEMINISCENCEb OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

to take care that our political opponents shall have 
no well-founded charge against us for coolness in 
the cause of hberty. Then again, I wished to give 
as little offence as possible to governments with 
whom we are at peace." 

These certainly are very proper considerations 
to influence a statesman of " large, roundabout 
common sense," looking before and after, and 
weighing the effect of his words, both upon the 
American people and foreign nations. The en- 
thusiastic patrons of the exiled Magyar wished 
Mr. Webster to use such language as would be 
appropriate to a village caucus, where the ap- 
proaching town election might be affected by the 
public favor shown to this European reformer. 
The result has proved where true wisdom lay, and 
that the language of Mr. Webster was all that a 
conscientious regard for duty required. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

HOME LIFE: MARSHFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 

To every one who was at all familiar with Mr. 
Webster's habits and feelings, it was evident that 
his home, and every thing connected with it, were 
peculiarly dear to him. After absorbing labors in 
the capitol or in the court-room, he always turned 
his face gratefully toward Marshfield. It was 
there that he sought leisure to meditate upon his 
triumphs ; it was thither that he turned for conso- 
lation, when harassed and overcome by disappoint- 
ment. No doubt, he enjoyed the excitements of 
his profession and of public life : to gain a forensic 
victory was certainly a delight to him ; to mingle 
in the fray of party warfare, to be the champion 
of principles he had embraced against foemen wor- 
thy of his steel, were sensations not disagreeable 
to him. But he always seemed most happy and 
most contented at home in Marshfield, surrounded 
by a family to whom he was tenderly devoted, 
within reach of the scenes of favorite sports and 
pastimes, and absorbed by the many quiet interests 
of the homestead and the farm. He never lost the 
fondness for agriculture Avhich grew in his early 
childhood, and which he inherited from his an- 
cestry of New Hampshire yeomen. When most 



264 KEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

deeply engaged in duties of State at AVashington, 
he always snatched time to keep watch of his 
farms, and to send John Taylor and Porter Wright 
mstructions, the most minute and careful, concern- 
ing the planting of his crops, and the raising, buy- 
ing, and selling of his horses, cattle, and poultry. 
His fondness for the home of his childhood at 
Franklin has already been remarked ; and it was 
one of the happiest circumstances of his life, that 
he was able, so long as he lived, to retain posses- 
sion of the fields and pastures familiar to the sports 
and labors of his early years. 

Before the year 1825, it had been Mr. Webster's 
custom, for several years, to pass a part of each 
summer at Sandwich. There, in company with 
his friend, George Blake, he indulged his taste for 
shootino; and fishing;. But the establishment of a 
large glass manufactory, and the arrival of many 
operatives, who, on their holidays, overspread the 
country with guns and dogs, had thinned out the 
game to such an extent that the neighborhood 
ceased to supply good sport. Mr. Webster men- 
tioned this to his friend, Isaac P. Davis ; who there- 
upon recommended him to apply to Captain John 
Thomas of Marshfield, whom Mr. Davis knew well, 
and who, he was confident, would gladly entertain 
Mr. Webster at his house, and grant him the free- 
dom of his marshes, where he would find a great 
abundance of sport. 

Mr. Webster resolved to act upon the suggestion. 
He took his wife and eldest son in a chaise and drove 
to Marshfield. 



HOME LIFE: MARSHFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 265 

As they passed over the brow of Black Mount, 
in front of Captain Thomas's residence, Mrs. Web- 
ster, without knowing that it was the very place 
they were to visit, called her husband's attention 
to the beautiful prospect before them, and bade 
him stop the horse to gaze at the scenery; re- 
marking that, if she ever were to have a retreat 
in the country, she should prefer the one before 
her to any she had ever seen. They drove up to 
the house. Captain Thomas received the party 
with great cordiality, and in his hearty manner 
embraced and kissed Mrs. Webster. He shouted 
with stentorian voice to his excellent wife, and 
then opened the door and ushered the visitors into 
his cosey old house. His wife and sons soon made 
their appearance, and were introduced ; and in a 
short time the unexpected guests were as much at 
home as they ever were afterwards during their 
residence at Marshfield. 

It was this strong preference of his wife that 
first suggested to Mr. Webster the thought of pur- 
chasing the place, which he afterwards did ; making 
large additions to the estate and to the dwelling- 
house. 

There are some interesting points in the history 
of Marshfield, which give an additional charm to 
its delightful scenery. It was early settled by tlie 
Pilgrims and their followers. It was the residence 
of Peregrine White, the first white child born in 
New England ; and his remains are buried in the 
old Winslow grave-yard on the premises of Mr. 
Webster. 



266 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTEK. 

The family of Winslow, so distinguished in colo- 
nial days, were natives of this place. The first 
Governor of that name married the mother of 
Peregrine White, after the death of her first hus- 
band. The Thomases were another distinguished 
family, and with the Winslows owned nearly all 
of that domain which is now known as South 
Marshfield. 

Many anecdotes of the various members of these 
two families are still current in that part of the 
country: one for its quaintness is worth pre- 
serving. 

On the death of Dr. Winslow, the good parson 
of the parish preached a sort of funeral oration. 
He began by speaking of the death of that great 
and good man, Governor Winslow. He had hoped 
at his decease that his valiant son, General Wins- 
low, would have succeeded to all his father's graces ; 
and on the death of General Winslow he had prayed 
that his son and successor might be no worse a man 
than his father; it was, he said, a small request, 
but Heaven had not seen fit to grant it ! 

Just before the breaking out of the Revolution, 
Nathaniel Ray Thomas, who was a royalist, had 
been appointed one of the king's " Mandamus 
Counsellors," a sort of appointment very offensive 
at the time to all the Whigs. General Gage was 
then with his troops in Boston. The times were 
so troubled, and the people so threatening, that it 
was thought necessary to despatch a party of troops 
for Mr. Thomas's protection. Accordingly, a hun- 
dred picked men from the British army were sent 



HOME LIFE: MAKSIIFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 267 

down and .stationed at his house, to guard the 
property and to keep the neighbors in awe. 

On the day after the battle of Lexington, how- 
ever, a despatch was sent from headquarters at 
Boston announcing the event, and ordering Cap- 
tain Balfour, who commanded the detachment, to 
return at once to Boston. This news, communi- 
cated to the British officer, was in advance of any 
received by the Whigs, who were hovering around 
the residence and along the roads, not wishing to 
be the first to attack, but desiring good cause of 
open resistance. Captain Balfour was able to make 
good his retreat to Boston before those who were 
watching his movements knew their cause ; other- 
wise, it is not unlikely that he and his men would 
never have lived to take part in the battle of 
Bunker Hill where they fought, and where he fell, 
pierced by seven bullets, though he survived his 
wounds. 

As soon as the force was withdrawn, and the 
knowledge of what had taken place at Lexington 
had transpired, Mr. Thomas knew that his resi- 
dence was no longer safe; and, fearing to travel 
by the road, he mounted a swift horse, and took 
to the beaches, swimming the various rivers that 
divided them, and arrived safely at Hingham. 
There he chartered a small vessel, and made his 
way to Boston ; thus suddenly and for ever taking 
leave of his home and estate at Marshfield. 

His family soon followed, with one exception ; and 
on the evacuation of Boston by General Gage, they 
repaired to Nova Scotia, where their descendants 
now remain. 



268 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTEH. 

The one exception to this exodus was in the 
person of the youngest son, John Thomas, who 
was a Whig, or rebel, and stoutly refused to leave, 
or to join the royal cause. The property was con- 
fiscated by the General Court of Massachusetts, 
and thus passed from the family. After the Revo- 
lution, however, Mr., then Captain, John Thomas, 
applied to the Legislature for a restitution to him 
of some part of the estate ; and by the friendly 
assistance of Perez Morton, afterward Attorney- 
General, obtained his mother's dowry, — one third 
of the real estate. 

Captain Thomas, at the time of Mr. Webster's 
first acquaintance with him, was in embarrassed 
circumstances, and his estate was mortgaged. He 
was already advanced in years, and most of his 
children had received their portion, and left the 
old homestead. Two sons only remained with him. 
They were quite willing that the farm should be 
sold. Mr. Webster purchased it on condition that 
Captain Thomas and his wife should remain there 
as long as they lived. Accordingly, the kind, hos- 
pitable old gentleman occupied his favorite room 
in the house till the time of his death, which took 
place some years after, at an advanced age. 

Mr. Webster became interested in the family, 
and undertook to provide for the remaining sons. 
The elder of the two engaged in business at 
Hingham ; and the younger went into the count- 
ing-house of Stephen White, of Salem. He was 
afterwards sent into the Western States, by Mr. 
Webster, as a land agent, and died while visiting 
Washington to see his employer. 



HOME LIFE: MARSHFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 269 

The intimacy and friendship between Captain 
Thomas and Mr. Webster were pecuhar. The 
captain, though much Mr. Webster's senior, soon 
learned to look up to him with respect and admi- 
ration ; he made Mr. Webster his Magnus Apollo, 
and at the same time entertained for him a sort 
of paternal affection. He deferred to Mr. Webster 
in all matters, excepting in some practical rules 
of farming, the nicer points of sporting, and the 
habits of birds, wild fowl, and fish, — in all which 
matters the captain was Mr. Webster's instructor. 
Their association, alwaj^s pleasant, grew into mu- 
tual affection ; and Captain Thomas, who, at Mr. 
Webster's suggestion, subscribed for the semi- 
weekly " Columbian Sentinel," watched, with the 
most intense interest, Mr. Webster's course in the 
Senate, as reported in that journal. 

In 1829-30, the good captain read Hayne'a 
first speech. He waited, in confidence, for a tri- 
umphant reply. It came, and he was entirely sat- 
isfied. The faithful " Sentinel," however, soon 
brought him Hayne's second speech. He read 
it with extreme and painful interest. 

It excited in him the gravest apprehensions for 
the idol of his old age. He was overwhelmed with 
grief. His hero, his great man, his beloved, al- 
most worshipped friend, was overthrown in debate 
by his Southern antagonist. The kind old gentle- 
man's pride was humbled ; he was in despair, — his 
heart almost broken. Castmg away the paper, he 
rose and retired slowly to his room, directing some 
one to come and take his boots away, as he should 



270 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

never want them again. His family tried in vain 
to console him. He refused to be comforted. Like 
one of old, he was ready to exclaim : " Ye have 
taken away my gods, and what have I more ? " 

For three days he kept his bed, mourning over 
the fall of his friend, and refusing all consolation. 
His eldest son tried to persuade him that Mr. Web- 
ster was able to defend the cause of New England, 
and would yet have his triumph. His only reply 
was: "It can't be answered, Henry, it can't be 
answered." 

The fatal semi-weekly " Sentinel " came again 
in due course. It was evening. The family were 
gathered around the fire in sad apprehension : the 
old man's mind seemed almost unhinged, — they 
even feared for his life. The captain still kept his 
bed, and appeared to have determined to hold to 
his vow never to rise from it. All their efforts to 
rouse him had, thus far, proved ineffectual. On 
opening the paper, it was found to contain Mr. 
Webster's second reply to Colonel Hayne. The 
family at once resolved that Henry should assume 
the task of carrying it to his father, and try the 
effect of this medicine to " minister to a mind dis- 
eased.' Henry entered his father's room with the 
paper and a candle. The old man groaned, and 
asked what he wanted. Henry replied : — 

" Father, I have brought you the ' Sentinel ; ' I 
thought you might like to look at it." 

" No, Henry, I don't want to see it." 

" It contains a second speech of Mr. Webster, in 
reply to Colonel Hayne." 



HOME LIFE: MAUSHFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 271 

" Oh, Henry ! " said the old gentleman, "• it is 
of no use ; it can't be answered ; I don't want to 
see it." 

Henry lingered, and seemed greatly distressed at 
his father's refusal. At last. Captain Thomas con- 
sented to have the paper and candle left, and said 
that perhaps he would look at it. Henry went 
downstairs, and reported the apparently unsuccess- 
ful result of his mission ; and the little famil}^ drew 
closely around their winter fire more gloomily than 
before. 

Some time had thus elapsed, when they were all 
suddenly startled by a tremendous shout from their 
father's room. They all rushed upstairs together 
to see what had happened. The captain was sit- 
ting on the side of the bed, with the paper in one 
hand and the candle in the other. As Henry en- 
tered, the captain roared out : — 

" Bring me my boots, Henry ! bring me my 
boots ! " 

Captain Thomas's recovery was so complete, 
that he never again suffered a relapse of that 
mental complaint. 

Mr. Webster, in a speech at Rochester, said : 

" Why, gentlemen, I live on the sandy seashore 
of Marshfield, and get along as well as I can 1 
am a poor farmer upon a great quantity of poor 
land ; but my neighbors and I, by very great 
care, — I hardly know how, — contrive to live 
on." 

What he says of the soil of Marshfield is literally 
true. Where it is neglected and not enriched by 



272 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

the frequent application of manure, it soon loses 
its productive power, yielding nothing but stunted 
trees and a peculiar light-colored moss, which 
crackles beneath the feet of the traveller like 
dry shavings, and is just about as nutritious for 
sheep and cattle. Mr. Webster did not select this 
place for his residence because it yielded the best 
crops ; but because, all things considered, it com- 
bined the advantages of sea and land, of running 
streams and quiet lakes, and presented more at- 
tractive scenery than could be found elsewhere in 
New England. It abounded in game of all descrip- 
tions. The land yielded animals and birds; the 
ocean, fishes. His tastes were therefore gratified. 
Finding a thin and barren soil in many places, de- 
nuded of trees by the axe, he studied the capabili- 
ties of his land, and sought at once the means of 
enriching it and clothing it with trees. 

Mr. Webster had a passion for planting trees, as 
well as for rearing fine animals. He often said to 
young farmers, " Plant trees, adorn your grounds, 
live for the benefit of those who shall come after 
you." He spoke with contempt, almost with in- 
dignation, of the stupidity and selfishness of those 
who refuse to plant trees because they may not 
live to see their maturity or taste their fruit. It 
was his practice to try experiments with every 
variety of forest trees, shade trees, and fruit trees, 
from different States and countries. Of course, 
many of them failed ; but a larger number suc- 
ceeded, and the trees " still live " to bear witnes? 
to his wisdom and benevolence. 



HOME LIFE: MAllSKFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 273 

Finding tlie soil of his farm naturally poor, he 
proceeded to invent ways and means of enriching 
it. He found the law of " compensation," which 
in other instances so fully marks the works of the 
Creator, in operation here also. The ocean, which 
made the adjacent soil so sandy and gravelly, con- 
tained in its bosom, and often cast upon the shore, 
the very best materials for enriching that soil. 
Though the land in the vicinity had been occu- 
pied for two centuries, no one had thought of 
enriching it wdth the products of the sea. Mr. 
Webster began to inquire at once, whether the 
kelp and menhaden from the adjacent waters 
could profitably be used as manure. The only 
obstacle in the way was the want of access with 
teams to the beach. A bridge and causeway were 
wanted over a small creek and the adjacent marsh, 
which lay between his arable lands and the ocean. 
The necessary improvements were made by the 
subscription of neighboring farmers at Mr. \Yeb- 
ster's instigation, he himself heading the contribu- 
tion and paying most liberally for the purpose. 
The fish which he used for manure are a species 
of herring not known in Europe, but called in the 
United States " hard-heads " and " menhaden." In 
summer they migrate North, and appear off the 
shore at Marshfield in June or July. When the 
weather is mild and the sea smooth, they approach 
the shore and enter the mouths of rivers and 
creeks, and sometimes seem to be driven alino.st 
out of the water by sharks and other large 
fishes that feed on them. They are taken in 

18 



274 I?EMIKISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

seinas, are drawn off by cartloads, and spread 
upon the land. Mr. Webster sometimes used ten 
or twelve loads to the acre. Occasionally, a com- 
post was made by mixing large quantities of loam 
or muck or decayed vegetable matter with the 
fish ; and, by digging it over once or twice in the 
autumn, a very excellent manure was prepared for 
the next spring. The use of the fish, when spread 
upon the soil, always brought with it swarms of 
flies of a peculiar hue and size, which for a time 
were very troublesome to laborers and housekeep- 
ers in the neighborhood. General Lyman gives a 
conversation which he had about them with a man 
ni Pembroke, Mass. 

" I told him," said he, " that I was going to 
Marshfield. 

" ' Well,' said the man, ' you will, of course, see 
the squire's farm.' 

" • Quite likely,' I replied. 

" ' Well,' said he, ' 3^ou will see something worth 
seeing ; yet I did not know, two months ago, but 
that he would drive us all out of Pembroke. I 
believe the squire spreads on his land, in the sum- 
mer, about all the fish he can find in the sea and 
get out of it. These breed a pestilent quantity of 
black flies ; not our common house-flies, but black, 
glossy fellows, that come about two hundred times 
as thick as you ever saw common flies about a plate 
of molasses. When the wind is east, it brings them 
here, and they remind us of Scripture times and 
the plagues of Egypt. However, they don't trouble 
us long ; for when the wind changes, they make o£f 



HOME LIFE: MARSHFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 275 

for Cape Cod.' " These insects were known in the 
neierhborhood as " Webster flies." 

The effect of this kind of manure is felt by the 
soil for many years, and when once put into good 
3ondition by a liberal outlay for fish, it amply re- 
pays all expenses by the abundant crops which it 
afterwards yields. This species of fish has now be- 
come an article of commerce in the vicinity of the 
ocean. The usual length of the menhaden is from 
ten to fifteen inches ; its weight, about one pound. 
Two hundred of them fill a barrel, which is worth 
at the shore fifteen or twenty cents. It is thought 
that one fish is equivalent to a shovelful of common 
manure. Very large quantities are taken by fish- 
ermen at a single haul, — often from one hundred 
to five hundred barrels. They are too oily to be 
valuable for food, and are used chiefly as fertilizers 
of the land or as bait for larger fish. 

The kelp, or rock -weed, was another product of 
the sea much employed by Mr. Webster to restore 
his worn-out lands. After an eastern storm, large 
masses of this weed are thrown upon the beach ; 
and, if drawn off and applied immediately to the soil, 
it is found to be worth as much as three times the 
quantity of ordinary barn manure. It costs nothing 
except the drawing ; but, when green and wet, it is 
exceedingly heavy and difficult to be moved. After 
the building of the bridge over the creek, most of 
the farmers, for many miles around, began to visit 
the beach with their teams and draw off the kelp. 
This has greatly increased the productive power, 
and of course the value, of their !<oil. The kelp 



276 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

brings with it no troublesome weeds, like manure 
from the barn-yard. Its odor is agreeable, having 
the peculiar scent of salt-water vegetation, and it 
is clean and conducive to the health of those who 
handle it. Mr. Webster applied it with great suc- 
cess to the potato crop, especially after the potato 
disease appeared. It was found very useful in the 
raising of all root crops, as well as hay ; indeed, it 
is an inexhaustible treasure to those who occupy the 
thin, pebbly soils on the Cape and its vicinity. 

In process of time Mr. Webster became very 
much attached to Marshfield. It was never out 
of his mind, whether he were there or absent; 
and it is worthy of notice that, however much he 
might be burdened with public and private cares, 
he seldom failed to write daily to some one at 
Marshfield. When he returned to this cherished 
retreat like an accepted lover, he wrote to his ab- 
sent friends of the charms of his " sweet home." 
He was an enthusiastic admirer of fine stock, and 
gave strict attention to their accommodations and 
comfort. After the building of his large barn, he 
used daily to visit and feed his cattle after they 
had been " tied up " according to size and age. 

One day he invited Fletcher and myseh to go 
with him, and see the animals settle among them- 
selves their own rank and precedence, as they were 
brought in to be tied up for the night. Farmers 
very well know that cattle are as particular about 
their position in society and their accredited stanch- 
ions as diplomatists at a royal court. 

After each animal was secured in his place, Mr. 



HOME LIFE: MARSHFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 27*7 

Webster amused himself by feeding them with 
ears of corn from an imhusked pile lying on the 
barn floor. As his son was trying to keep himself 
warm by playing with the dog, he said : — 

" You do not seem, my son, to take much inter- 
est in this ; but, for my part [and here he broke 
an ear and fed the pieces to the oxen on his right 
and left, and watched them as they crunched it], 
I like it. I had rather be here than in the Senate." 
Adding, with a smile which showed all his white 
teeth, " I think it better company." 

On another day, we had been out fishing ; and 
on our return, as it was pleasant weather, he pro- 
posed that we should go and see his fine yearlings. 
So he took in his hand a Malacca joint, nearly ten 
feet long, which his son Edward had given him, 
and we started out over the hill. Porter Wright 
went with us, and we examined the yearlings. 
Mr. Webster knew them all, — how many there 
were, their breed, their value, their ages, how 
they were to be kept, and all about them. I used 
to take the greatest interest in hearing him talk 
about cows, horses, and farm topics generally. 
After examining the yearlings, he said : — 

" We will now go over to Burial Hill, half a 
mile off. I want to show you some fine native 
eheep." 

He stopped a moment or two to give Porter 
Wright some directions about salting the year- 
lings, and Fletcher and I walked down the hill 
ahead. We were talking pretty intently, and 
heard no noise, till we were startled by our hata 



275 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

tumbling off and rolling down hill. We looked up 
as Mr. Webster ran by us, flourishing the Malacca 
joint, with which he had knocked off our hats, in 
the air, and crying out in a laughing way : — 

" How 's your folks ? " 

Mr. Webster had a cordial fondness for animals. 
I never knew a man more devoted to all kinds of 
domestic creatures. He was very kind to them, 
as he was to every living thing. He delighted in 
fine cattle and sheep. When he lived in Washing- 
ton, he always kept around him some animals to 
remind him of rural life. He had a cow in his 
yard and some favorite fowls. He had a number 
of hens, which he took peculiar pleasure in feeding 
and watching. He used to come from the State 
Department to his parlor, and, finding Mrs. Web- 
ster's little work-basket on the sideboard, he would 
go up softly and say, " I think I may venture to 
take this little basket ; " and he would empty it of 
its contents, and go to the barn to get the hens' 
eggs. He would bring them in and talk about 
them with all the glee and joyousness of boyhood. 
This he did every day. It was one of those little 
pleasures which reminded him of his early home. 
He loved also every thing which reminded him of 
his mother. For many years he retained a little 
poem which he wrote to his mother from Hanover, 
on his first return from college, specifying what he 
would like her to get for his dinner. He could 
find nothing away from home that equalled his 
mother's cooking. So he wrote to her a poetical 
letter to herald his arrival, and to ask her to cook 



HOME LIFE: MAHSIIFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 279 

tor liim, in her own rare manner, his favorite dish 
of chickens and pork. 

He took great interest in all agricultural mat- 
ters and improvements, and tried to procure and 
introduce among his neighbors the best breeds of 
domestic animals, — cattle, sheep, swine, fowls, — 
the best grains, esculent roots, and fruits. 

Mr. Webster's farming was always on a large 
scale ; he disliked small fields and scrimped patches. 
One of the charms of Marshfield to him was the 
extensive range it afforded him for the gratifica- 
tion of his bucolic tastes. 

He never liked to hear any one speak of " his 
grounds." He would say : — 

" I have no grounds ; mine is a farm." 

The distance from his house to the mouth of 
Green Harbor River is about two miles. At this 
place Mr. Webster kept his boats, and it was his 
custom to spend a large portion of his time upon 
the ocean, when he was at Marshfield. He had his 
boat furniture made after a pattern of his own, ex- 
pressly for himself, and stamped with the initials 
of his name. Several large tin pails, divided into 
separate compartments, contained the salt beef, the 
brown bread, the cheese, knives and forks, vinegar 
cruet, mustard pot, and other little necessaries for a 
brief cruise. To the storing of these things he always 
gave personal attention, and served out to his com- 
panions their rations with his own hand. What- 
ever he did, he did with his might ; and both as a 
fowler and a fisherman he was remarkably success- 
ful, though he enjoyed the withdrawal from society 



280 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

which his boat afforded, whether he was successful 
in his sport or not. He could there reflect and 
commune with himself, uninterrupted by any in- 
truder, and gaze upon the sky and ocean, forgetful 
of all less peaceful things. He never, on such oc- 
casions, whoever might be on board, allowed any 
conversation on politics or business. To any one 
who could give him information about natural ob- 
jects he lent a willing ear. He had the faculty of 
judging wisely as to each man's ability to give 
information on any particular subject ; and was 
pretty sure to exhaust his informant's store of 
knowledge before his examination closed. He 
studied carefully the habits of birds and fishes, the 
influence of tides and currents, the changes of the 
sky and winds ; and related with zest, or listened 
to with interest, anecdotes of adventure by sea or 
land, and occasionally humorous stories. He never 
tolerated any thing indelicate or profane in the 
stories to which he listened, and under no circum- 
stances was he ever known to utter, on such occa- 
sions, any language which might not be repeated 
with propriety in a lady's drawing-room. 

Pleased thus to escape from business and all its 
vexations, he was always greatly annoyed when 
his plans for recreation were interrupted. Some 
time during the year 1842, he, with Peterson, his 
faithful friend and constant attendant, and Hatch, 
were at sea in his little yacht " Comet." They 
were some miles from shore, and lay at anchor, 
fishing. The sport was good, and all were busy 
drawing in the cod and haddock, when a sail waa 



HOME LIFE: MARSHFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 281 

descried bearing down upon them from the north- 
ward. Mr. Webster scrutinized it for a while 
through his pocket glass, and, not recognizing it, 
said to Peterson : — 

" Commodore, you know ' the cut of the jib ' of 
every boat or vessel that is commonly seen in these 
waters. Take my glass and tell me wdiat craft that 
is yonder." 

Peterson looked, and pronounced it a strange 
sail. Mr. Webster then said : — 

" Upon which point of the wind will the ' Comet ' 
sail fastest ? " 

The commodore replied : — 

" About half free." 

" Where will that take us, as the wind now is ? " 
said Mr. Webster. 

" To Provincetown," was the reply. 

"Weigh anchor then," said Mr. Webster, "and 
put her under full sail. That stranger is an office- 
seeker, and we will give him a wide berth." 

Away scudded the " Comet " to Provincetown ; 
the breeze was fresh, and Peterson was at the helm. 
After an hour's sail the strange craft was " hull 
down." Taking a long breath, grateful for his 
escape, Mr. Webster anchored again and resumed 
his fishing. On his return home, at evening, he 
learned that his suspicions respecting the character 
of the strange sail were C0i.Tect. Some person from 
one of the towns alonii: the coast towards the north 
was an applicant for the post of lighthouse-keeper. 
He had taken the precaution to go to Marshfield 
by water, thinking that possibly Mr. Webster might 



282 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

be out on a fishing excursion, to solicit the states- 
man's influence in securing the appointment. 

As Mr. Webster was fond of manly sports, of 
course he liked a good horse well, though he liked 
handsome cattle better. He was very particular 
to have his horses well cared for and well groomed. 
He seldom sold one that had done him good ser- 
vice. Three of his favorite horses were buried on 
his farm, on the top of an eminence visible from 
the house. He had them buried, as he said, " with 
the honors of war ; " that is, standing upright, 
with their halters and shoes on. For one of them, 
remarkable as a roadster, named " Steamboat," the 
following epitaph was written : — 

" Siste, Viator ! 
Viator te major hie sistit." 

He had a favorite black mart " Jenny," — a 
fine, spirited animal, and an excellent traveller. 
One warm day in ^lay he invited a relative, Mr. 
Joy, who was visiting Marshfield, to go trouting 
with him. " Jenny " was harnessed to his open 
wagon, and they proceeded to try the brooks in 
the north part of Marshfield. After trying several 
with tolerable fortune, as they were going to an- 
other, the sun pouring down upon their heads, 
along an uninteresting stretch of straight road 
without a tree on either side, but leading to a 
pleasant grove on a hill about half a mile off, he 
began to touch the mare with the whip. 

" Mr. Joy," said he, " we hear much of the won- 
derful instinct of Arabian horses ; that they dis- 



i 



HOME LIFE: MARSIIFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 283 

cover the existence of water at a great distance on 
the desert, when they are thirsty [here he touched 
up the mare] ; but this horse [another touch] is 
vastly superior to them [here another touch, and 
by this time "Jenny" was going at her utmost 
speed. They had nearly reached the grove]. This 
horse not only knows when she is thirsty, but when 
her master is also. See how she presses on to that 
grove, Avhere she knows we shall stop and take a 
drop." 

As he uttered these words, he pulled up undei 
the trees, and, with his pleasant laugh, offered Mr. 
Joy his little flask of spirits and water. 

To his guns he gave names after the fashion of 
most old hunters. He had his " Mrs. Patrick," his 
" Learned Selden," his " Wilmot Proviso," and 
several others. His trout rod, with which he used 
to fish about Sandwich and Marshfield Rivers, was 
"' Old Killall," made for him by the notorious John 
Trout. It was with this rod in his hand, as he 
waded Marshfield River, that he composed a por- 
tion of his Bunker-Hill oration, as he writes in his 
biography. His son, Fletcher Webster, remem- 
bered the occurrence well. 

No one enjoyed the incidents of shooting and 
fishing more than he. He liked to commune with 
plain people, living in out-of-the-way places, whom 
he encountered ; and occasionally he would derive 
more amusement from the men he met than from 
the fish he caught. His son Fletcher has left the 
following account of a fishing excursion on the 
Cape : — 



284 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

" I was taken along with him, to make trial of 
a certain brook of which we had heard, but had 
never visited, the name of which I have forgot- 
ten. It was some eight or ten miles from Sand- 
wich. We drove through the pine woods, and at 
last reached the stream. It ran through an open 
meadow, near which, on the rising ground, stood 
the owner's house. My father drove up to the 
fence, and, finding the occupant there, very civilly 
asked permission of the old man to fasten his horse 
for an hour or two. This was readily granted. 
He knew the man's name, which, I think, was 
Baker, with whom he commenced a conversation 
by some trivial remark about the weather, and re- 
ceived a similar reply. As he was preparing his 
rod and line, the conversation proceeded. 

" Webster. ' Well, Mr. Baker, with your leave, 
we thought we would like to try and take a trout 
in your brook.' 

" Baker. ' Oh, yes, sir, very welcome to.' 

" Webster. * I have heard that there was very 
good fishing in it, Mr. Baker.' 

" Baker. ^ Well, a good many folks have been 
here, and taken a good many trout out some- 
times.' 

" Webster. ' We must try and see what we can 
do this morning. Where do they usually begin to 
fish ? ' 

" Baker. ' Oh, I'll show you.' 

" The old man accompanied my father to the 
brook, and pointed out the spot. It was where 
tlie brook was thickly overhung with alders, and 



HOME LIFE: MARSILFIELD AND FKANKLIN. 285 

the ground was very miry. Father siuik into the 

mud half-way up his leg. 

" Webster. ' Rather miry here, Mr. Baker,' 

" Baker. ' Yes, that 's the worst on't.' 

" After throwing several times, and catching his 

hook in the alders : — 

" Webster. ' These alders are rather in ihe 

way, Mr. Baker.' 

" Baker. ' I know it. That 's the worst on't.' 
" The mosquitoes now began to bite most an- 

noyingly ; one hand was busy all the time slapping 

them off the face and the other hand. 

" Webster. ' These mosquitoes are pretty thick 

and very hungry, Mr. Baker.' 

" Baker. ' 1 know it. That 's the worst on't.' 
" Now the heat in the low ground, without a 

breath of air, had become intense. My father 

wiped his forehead and rested a moment. 

" Webster. ' It is very hot down here in these 

bushes, Mr. Baker.' 

" Baker. ' I know it. That 's the worst on't.' 
"My father resumed his fishing, and after an 

hour's struggle with the heat, the bushes, the 

mire, and the mosquitoes : — 

" Webster. ^ There seem to be no fish here, 

Mr. Baker.' 

" Baker. ' I know it. That 's the worst on't.' 
" There was no resisting tUs. My father put 

up his rod and departed ; but he laughed all the 

way home at the ' worst on't,' and always took 

pleasure in recalling the occurrence to mind." 
There was no sport into which Mr. Webster en- 



286 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

tered with more zest than fishing : it seemed as if 
lie never tired of it. I remember that we were 
once going out quite early for a day's fishing, at a 
place about two miles from the house, near Avhere 
his boat was moored. Fletcher and Edward, his 
two sons, went with us. We rode in an open 
wagon, Mr. Webster driving. When we got 
almost to the gate leading to the main driveway 
down to the ocean, he reined up the horse, a 
spirited animal, and hallooed to his man Baker, 
who was a matter-of-fact sort of man. Baker came 
trotting along. 

" Baker," said Mr. Webster, " bring me my miU- 
tary hat. I have taken the wrong one." 

So the man trotted back to the house and 
brought the hat, and started to return. He had 
gone but a short distance, when Mr. Webster called 
out to him again ; and Baker once more retraced 
his steps. 

" Baker," said Mr. Webster, " shall I catch for 
you to-day some large cod, or some small ones? 
Which do you prefer ? " 

The man looked perfectly amazed, and stopped 
to think. 

" Baker will solve that problem by the time 
we get back," said Mr. Webster. " We will go 
out and catch some fish, and then come in and 
dine." 

At Marshfield, it was always Mr. Webster's cus- 
tom to retire very early at night and to rise early 
in the morning. 

On one occasion we had started on a day's excur- 



HOME LIFE: MARSIIFIELD AND FrvANKLlN. 287 

«ion. The bay had been cut on the lawn, and wan 
piled up in stacks. We had on our tarpaulin suits. 
Mr. Webster gave ine a sly wink, and said : — 

" Let us see who can jump over that high cock." 

" I dare 3'ou to," said I. 

" Harvey," he returned, " I don't propose to be 
dared." 

He started away, and ran, and jumped over it. 
I was not quite so alert, but I followed, and suc- 
ceeded in clearing tlie top of it. Fletcher came 
next, and he went over. 

" Now, Ned 1 " said Mr. Webster, " start ! " Ned 
ran for it, but owing, I suppose, to heedlessness, it 
happened that he hit the cock, and pitched head 
over heels. That amused Mr. Webster, causing him 
to laugh very heartily. 

" What an athletic fellow 3'ou are ! " said he. 
*' What a wrestler you would make ! " 

Ned was of a very sober cast, never entering 
into any thing hilarious, but being very temperate 
in his manner. 

When we got to the boat, and were having good 
sport and luck, Mr. Webster called out, — 

" Where is that military hero ? " 

We were all busy with our affairs, and I did not 
observe Ned. Mr. Webster shouted out again, 
laughing, " Where is that military hero? " 

By and by 1 looked into the cuddy, or the little 
cabin, and there Edward lay stretched out. 

'- 1 have hurt myself, by father's fooling," he 
said ; " he is always suggesting something for a 
Bcrape to break my neck." 



288 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

" Where did you hurt yourself ? " I nsked. 

" I hurt my knee ; and it pains me so that 1 
thought I would leave off fishing." 

When I went back to the rail, where they \weve 
hauling in the fish, I whispered to Mr. Webster, 
and told him that Edward had hurt himself in that 
jump, and that he was in a good deal of pain. 

Mr. Webster dropped his line instantly, and his 
countenance fell. 

" Let me go right to him," said he, " Why, 
how cruel I have been ! My son, I ask your 
pardon ; I had not the remotest conception that 
you had hurt yourself; let us bathe it in some- 



thing." 



" Oh, no," said Ned. 

" Oh, yes, but I will," replied his father. 

And Mr. Webster soothed him, found out Avhere 
the pain was, got some spirits, and had them ap- 
phed. This little affair seemed to mar Mr. Web- 
ster's whole sport for the day. 

"We will go home," he said; "we won't pur- 
sue this sport any longer." And he continued to 
show the greatest interest and tenderness towards 
his son. 

Mr. Webster told me a great many times after- 
wards, and once after Edward's death, how badly 
he felt about that accident. 

On one occasion in Washington, which I will 
mention in this connection, two or three years 
before he died, I had noticed a little tendency 
to wateriness in his eyes; and I spoke to him 
about it. 



HOME LIFE: MARSIIFIELD AKD FRANKLIN. 289 

"There is a history about that eye," said he; 
'■* and I will tell it to you. But it must not go 
any further." 

Mr. Webster then related to uie the following 
story : — 

Some two years before, while fishing in the 
''' Julia," which was the name of his boat (so 
named for his daughter), Fletcher was fishing by 
his side, and their lines got crossed and tangled. 
There was a fish on . both lines. In the excite- 
ment of the sport, which any one accustomed to 
fishing will appreciate, Fletcher gave a tremendous 
pull upon his line, and the fish broke from it. Mr. 
Webster was on his left, and as Fletcher pulled 
his line up, soaked in salt water, it came right into 
Mr. Webster's eye. He said that for a moment the 
pain was more excruciating than any thing that he 
ever suffered. It seemed to pull across the pupil 
of his eye. He said that Fletcher, although he 
was not to blame in the least, felt that he had 
been the cause of this accident. 

" I made as light of it as possible," Mr. Webster 
went on, " and the intensity of the pain was over 
in a few hours. Fletcher was worried constantly 
about it, though I told him that it amounted to 
nothing. But that eye is weak yet, and it has 
its fits of watering and discomfort, and will, I sup- 
pose, as long as I live. If Fletcher knew it, it 
would make him perfectl}^ miserable to think thnt 
he was the innocent cause of giving me this perma- 
nent injury. Now," added he, " say nothing to any 
one ; for 3'oa are the onh^ person in the w^orld to 

19 



290 liEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTEK. 

wliom I have ever told this story. I have had it 
suggested by others that that eye was watery ; but 
I could only give some evasive answer." 

Mr. Healy, Mr. Webster's law partner, once 
went fishing with him from Marshfield, but they 
had no luck, and got no fish. They were absent 
eight hours, and did not have a bite. When they 
returned they found three or four persons standing 
near the boat-house. Mr. Webster kept a stable 
there for the convenience of putting up his horses 
when he went fishino;. These men had also come 
there to go fishing, and had put their horses into 
the stable without permission. When Mr. Webster 
approached, they showed a good deal of trepidation, 
and began to apologize. He said that no apology 
was necessary ; the stable was built for the purpose 
of holding horses. 

" You are welcome," said he, " to keep your 
horses here, while going out fishing ; but there is 
no probability of your getting any fish, for we 
have been out and could not get any." 

He found that they were people who had come 
seven or eight miles across the country for the sole 
purpose of fishing, and he freely offered them his 
boat, tackle, and bait ; and wished them better luck 
than he had had. He left them, and drove along 
home. On the way he said to Mr. Healy : — 

" These people have come a long distance, ex- 
pecting to have a chowder, and I feel sorry that 
they will fare no better." 

When Mr. Webster got home, he divided the fish 
which he had purchased for his own use, and sent 



HOME LIFE: MARSHFIELD AND FKANKLIN. 291 

half of them to these men. This simply illustrates 
his great kindness to everybody. 

An old and intimate friend ^ relates the following 
recollections of Mr. Webster at home. As he was 
walking with Mr. Webster near the Marshfield house 
one morning in June, he observed that the small 
birds were numerous and more tame than usual, 
and mentioned it to his host. 

" I take great pleasure," replied Mr. Webster, 
"• in cultivating a good understanding with these 
annual visitors. I love their company and their 
songs." 

While he was speaking, a musket was fired not 
far from them. Mr. Webster spoke to one of his 
men near by : — 

" Drive that fellow from my premises ! I don't 
want these little creatures disturbed. I watch 
them with delight, and protect them ; their nests 
have my constant care and oversight, and I never 
permit any one to disturb them." 

The same friend describes a fishing excursion 
in company with Mr. Webster, during this visit, 
in which the statesman seemed to be abstracted 
for some time, and far away from the scene of his 
recreation. Finally he shouted, — 

" I've got him ! " 

He had hooked a very large halibut, which he 
tried to draw gently up to the surface, ordering his 
men to be ready wdth the boat-hooks to secure him 
as soon as he should appear. Just as the fish rose 
m sight the line broke, and the fish was off. Mr. 

1 Thomas Tileson 



292 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

Webster was greatly excited, and exclaimed as he 
darted away, — 

" Was he not a noble fellow ? " 

Returning from their fishing excursion, a farmer 
from the vicinity approached Mr. Webster, and, tak- 
ing from his pocket a long leather purse, handed 
Mr. Webster half a dollar, saying, — 

" Your men have been very successful to-day in 
taking menhaden, and I have loaded my wagon 
with them. It is right that I should pay for 
them." 

Mr. Webster was taken by surprise ; and though 
he did not want the half dollar, he disliked to re- 
fuse it, fearing he might give offence. The farmer 
then drove off, and Mr. Webster, turning to his 
friend, said that this was the first money that he 
had ever received from his Marshfield estate. He 
probably meant the payment of money to himself 
personally, as he was not accustomed to sell his own 
produce. At the same interview, Mr. Webster be- 
ing questioned respecting the truth of the anecdote 
that he had once carried two young men (strangers 
to him) on his back across a creek on the marsh, 
admitted that he once performed such a service, 
and was offered half a dollar by each of the young 
men for his welcome assistance. 

Soon after Mr. Webster M^ent to Marshfield, he 
was one day out on the marshes, shooting birds. 
It was in the month of August, when the farmers 
were securing their salt hay. He came, in the 
course of his rambles, to the Green Harbor River, 
which he wished to cross. He beckoned to one of 



HOME LIFE: MARSHFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 293 

the men on the opposite bank to take him over in 
his boat, which kij moored in sight. The man at 
once left his work, came over, and paddled Mr. 
Webster across the stream. He declined the pay- 
ment offered him, but lingered a moment, with 
Yankee curiosity, to question the stranger. He 
surmised who Mr. Webster was, and with some 
hesitation remarked : — 

" This is Daniel Webster, I beheve." 

" That is my name," replied the sportsman. 

" Well, now," said the farmer, " I am told that 
you can make from three to five dollars a day, 
pleadin' cases up in Boston." 

Mr. Webster replied that he was sometimes so for- 
tunate as to receive that amount for his services. 

" Well, now," returned the rustic, " it seems 
to me, I declare, if I could get as much in the 
city, pleadin' law cases, I would not be a-wadin' 
over these marshes this hot weather, shootin' little 
birds ! " 

During a summer and autumn in the early 
years of his residence at Marshfield, Mr. Webster 
was in the habit of visiting Cohasset, Chelsea 
Beach, and Nantasket Beach, to enjoy the shoot- 
ing of wild fowl. It was in the day of single-bar- 
relled guns and flint locks, and before percussion 
caps had come into use. It was the custom of 
sportsmen, in those days, to apply their lips to 
the muzzle of the gun after a discharge, to blow 
the smoke from the barrel. This practice often re- 
peated smutted the face very considerably ; and 
in Mr. Webster's case added rather a grim ap- 



294 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

peanince to his usually swarthy complexion. On 
one occasion, Mr. Webster, being at Chelsea Beach, 
had for some hours been lying among the tall gras^ 
which grew abundantly on the high bank overlook 
ing the beach, and from his concealment shooting 
at the flocks of birds as they sailed along over the 
beach and the adjacent waters. Suddenly a flock 
appeared, flying quite low. He was obliged to 
lower the muzzle of his gun below the horizontal 
range to bring the birds before his eye. The 
moment he had fired, he heard an outcry from 
some one on the beach below. He instantly 
sprang up, and looking over the bank discovered 
a man rubbing his face and shoulder, and showing 
indications of being hurt. Mr. Webster, in his 
soiled sporting costume, and with his face and 
hands begrimed with powder, rushed down to the 
the stranger in some alarm, exclaiming : — 

" My dear sir, did I hit you ? " 

The man gave a single look at the sportsman, 
and replied with spirit : " Yes, you did hit me ; and 
from your looks, I should think that I am not the 
first man you have shot, either." 

It has already been said that Mr. Webster di- 
vided his affections and his leisure between his 
home at Marshfield and the old farm at Frankhn. 
Scarcely, perhaps never, did a year pass that he 
did not go to Elms Farm at Franklin, not only 
for rest, but to make a personal insj^ection of 
his fields and live-stock. It was at Franklin, too, 
that he often received, with a genial hospitality, 
many of his personal and political friends. I have 



HOME LIFE: MARSIIFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 295 

already related a memorable meeting which once 
took place there, when General Pierce was the 
specially honored guest. A visit to Elms Farm, 
when its lord was there, was indeed a rare and 
happy privilege. There he fairly unbent and be- 
came the easy and social companion, as well as the 
wise and thoughtful teacher. The atmosphere and 
surroundings there seemed to lure him to deeper 
contemplation than ever. His moods at Franklin, 
sometimes sunny and sometimes sad, were seldom 
gloomy. 

His interest in the farm itself was not only very 
great when he was upon the spot, but when absent 
as Senator and Secretary of State, his letters and 
talk showed that a week never passed in which his 
thoughts did not revert to the cattle, the crops, 
and other matters relating to Elms Farm. His 
knowledge of farming and live-stock, too, was 
equal to his interest in them. He was a true yeo- 
man's son to the day of his death; and the man- 
ner in which he addressed his steward at Franklin 
(John Taylor), as " Brother Farmer," indicated, as 
indeed he often betrayed otherwise, that he was 
proud of belonging to the sturdy craft of hus- 
bandry. John Taylor was a sterling farmer, and 
his qualities were thoroughly appreciated and 
highly valued by Mr. Webster, who trusted him 
implicitly, and treated him rather as a friend than 
as a dependent. Taylor was not only an efficient 
tiller of the soil, but a man of marked character, 
and a wit of no small calibre. Mr. Webster once 
told me the following anecdote of him: — 



296 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

After the exciting controversy to which his 7th 
of March speech was incident, Mr. Webster felt 
quite wearied and ill from the exertions he had 
undergone. Dr. Warren was called in, and told 
him that he was not suffering from any disease, 
but that he was excited. His brain was exhausted 
from overwork. Rest and freedom from excite- 
ment were the proper remedies. He must leave 
his books, go fishing, and lie off quietly. He 
went to Marshfield, but it was difficult to isolate 
himself. People from Plymouth and Duxbury, 
and his friends from Boston, would come down 
to see him. 

" We cannot get on here," said he, " there is 
too much company." 

I was down there with him, and I suggested that 
Franklin would give him the desired retirement. 
So he went to Franklin ; but it was the same 
there. When it became known that he was at 
the farm, people began to come in from the neigh- 
boring towns to see him. Sometimes there would 
be a dozen wagons at a time surrounding the house. 
He received all comers kindly, and had a pleasant 
word for everybody. 

He had been there a fortnight, and the crowd of 
visitors did not decrease. The doctor went up to 
see him, and did not find him much improved. He 
saw at a glance what the difficulty was, for there 
were numbers of people then about the place. After 
they had gone, the doctor said : — 

" Mr. Webster, it is my duty, as your physician, 
to say to you, that it is a case of absolute necessity 



HOME LIFE: MAKSIIFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 297 

for you to cease receiving this company. You 
can't get on at all till you stop it." 

" But what am I to do ? " said Mr. Webster. 
^' These people come great distances to pay their 
respects to me. How can I say that I won't see 
them ? " 

" But is it not better to let them know that you 
are sick and need repose ? If they are friends, that 
will be a sufficient excuse to them." 

" Well/' said Mr. Webster, " I will." 

The doctor left him, and he immediately called 
in John Taylor, and said : — 

" John, I am going up to my chamber to lie down 
and rest. I am tired. John Taylor, do you see 
that poker ? " 

" Yes, squire." 

" Well, you have my warrant and full permission 
to use that poker upon anybody who undertakes 
to enter this house to disturb me. Do you under- 
stand ? " 

" I understand, squire ; you need not trouble 
yourself." 

"And I went upstairs," said Mr. Webster, "and 
lay down and fell asleep. How long I slept I do 
not know, but I woke up refreshed. It was near 
sundown, and no noise was heard save the chirp- 
ing of the crickets ; every thing was as still as in 
the midst of a wilderness. By and by I heard 
that heavy tread of John Taylor downstairs. I 
shouted : — 

" ' John Taylor, come up here ! ' 

" He came up, and said he : — 



298 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

" ' Squire, you have slept longer than you have 
before since you came up here.' 

" * Well, how goes it with the company ? Have 
you had occasion to use the poker ? ' 

" ' Yes, squire ; seventeen souls are done for, 
and two-thirds of them are crippled for life ! ' " 

The correspondence which constantly passed be- 
tween Mr. Webster and John Taylor, and which 
grew more frequent than ever toward the end of 
Mr. Webster's life, well illustrates many of his qual- 
ities. His kindness and consideration, his knowl- 
edge of cattle and farming, his talent for order 
and administration, his quick appreciation of work 
well done, and his leniency in regard to faults, 
appear clearly in the often hurried lines, scratched 
off amid the bustle of the Senate chamber or the 
crowding business of the State Department, to his 
" brother farmer " at Franklin. A large number 
of these letters having come into my possession, I 
have made selections from them, and now present 
some of the more interesting and characteristic to 
the reader. The letters which I have range over 
the period between 1847 and 1852.^ 



Washington, Jan. 9, 1847. 

Dear Sir, — I have just amved here, and find your three 
letters, — which is all right. I do not wish to let anybody 
into the old house in the absence of your family. It is better 
to keep it shut up. Probably I shall write soon for Mr. 
George to move the T and finish off the house as early as 

1 Mr. Fletcher Webster published a number of letters of his father 
to John Taylor in his " Private Correspondence." None of the letters 
which follow, however, appeared in that work. 



HOME LIFE: MARSHFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 299 

may be in the spring. You will write me at least once a 

week, according to arrangement. I have no doubt you will 

take good care of every thing, and carry on the business 

with spirit. If you need money, let me know. 

Yours truly, 

Daxiel Webstee, 
Mr. Taylor. 



Washington, Feb. 15, 1848. 

Dear Sir, — As you have now snow enough, I expected 
to hear of your being engaged in hauling wood for Mr. 
Nesmith. You must take right hold, and take hold strong. 
You have four oxen and a pair of horses. You know that 
good farmers must not suck their claws in the winter. I 
suppose the boys' school is through by this time. Now, if 
neaessary, buy a cheap pair of oxen, and get needful help. 
At any rate, put two teams right to the work, and keep them 
at it close till I come. You must earn me two or three hun- 
dred dollars this winter in drawing wood, and no mistake. 
Enclosed is fifty dollars; you can have a little more when 
needed. Now, dear sir, let me know that you have taken 
hold and are going right ahead. 

As to selling the timber trees, I will think of that. I 

shall be with you soon. Let Mr. Nesmith know at once 

that you are going to draw a great part of the forest down 

to the railroad. We have beautiful weather here now. We 

expect Mrs. Webster home again this week. I hope you are 

all well, and expect to hear from you as usual. How many 

calves have you? Yours, 

D. Websteb. 
Mr. Taylor. 

Boston, Oct. 80. 
Mr. Taylor, — In husking your corn, I wish you to trace 
up several hundred dozens of handsome ears for seed corn, 
one dozen in a bunch. Keep them dry and safe till spring, 
and they can be sold here high. We got here well. 

D. W 



300 EEftnNISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

Friday, Nov. 30. 

Dear Sib, — If the weather holds fair, come down on 
Monday, bringmg the mutton with you, and also your two 
turnips in a little bag. If Monday should not be a good day, 
come down the first day that is good. Leave the turkeys 
fattening. Yours, 

D. W. 



January 6. 

Dear Sib, — I am glad to learn that you are all well and 
doing well. I cannot buy Mr. Farewell's oxen. Money is 
too scarce. Besides, it is not good management to exchange 
young cattle for old. The growth is lost when that is done. 
We can get you something to do your work in the spring. 
I hope to hear from you regularly. D. W. 

J. T. 

Washington, March 7, 1851. 

Deab Sib, — We are quite distressed to hear of so much 
sickness in your family; but, as neither of the diseases is 
positively dangerous, I hope you will all be soon growing 
better. I send you a check for thirty dollars, as you may 
be in want of some money, and shall write you again soon. 

Yours truly, 

Daniel Webster. 
Mr. Taylor. 

Washington, March 9, 1851. 

Dear Sib, — I sent you a check for thirty dollars a few 
days ago. I now enclose seventy dollars, making one hun- 
dred dollars in all. This is to enable you to buy lime, plaster, 
&c. I have ordered a considerable quantity of guano to be 
sent to you. I do not wish to make any small experiments. 
What I propose to do is this, to wit: let ten measured acres 
on the north end of the ploughed land in the pasture be har- 
rowed as early as possible with a heavy, long-toothed harrow ; 
then spread the guano, mixed with plaster, broadcast by the 



HOME LIFE: MARSHFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 301 

hand ; let there be three times as much bulk of plaster as 
of guano, all mixed in and sown carefully and evenly, and 
then harrow again, and perhaps harrow a third time. My 
object is to get the guano well into the ground, so that its 
strength shall not evaporate into the air. Put one ton and 
a half of guano upon ten acres. When you have got it well 
under, then plant the potatoes in drills as mentioned in your 
letter, putting in, wherever a potato is dropped, a handful 
of lime and plaster and a very little salt, according to Mr. 
Nesmith's ideas. Get the potatoes into the ground as early 
as possible. As to sorts of seeds, I doubt whether you can 
do better than to plant a good many of the York reds. Mr. 
Nesmith is a good counsellor on this subject. Now you 
have your directions. Follow them exactly and to the let- 
ter, and whatever may be said to the contrary, vary not one 
hair's breadth from these directions. I hojDe to see you by 
or before the first day of April ; and then we will decide 
what to do with my six oxen. Ask Mr. Osgood why he 
does not send me the deed of the old house, as requested. I 
trust your family are getting better. 

Daniel Websteb. 
John Taylor. 

P. S. The ton and a half to the ten acres is to be guanOy 
not calculating the plaster. 



JCTNE 11, 1851. 

Dear Sir, — I came home eight days ago well, and found 
Mrs. Webster well. Letters from you were found here, as 
well as at New York. I am very happy to hear you are all 
in health. The weather has been and is rather cold. I fear 
your corn will not come on fast. It seems a good year for 
grass ; and I hope oats, turnips, and potatoes will do well. 
I think a great deal every day about Franklin. To-morrow 
is the day for a letter from you. Remember me kindly tc 
all your family. Your friend, 

Daniel Websteb 
John Taylou. 



302 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

"Washington, July 2, 1851. 
John Taylor, — I have returned and find your letters. 
I cannot lay out a dollar in horse-flesh, and the rule is, you 
know, to have no trading in horses. Your horses have 
worked well enough together heretofore, and I hope will do 
so still. Keep your own team, do your own work ; do not 
trouble yourself about the Sawyer place, give your whole 
attention to your own farm and your own business, — then 
all will go well. Never mention the word horse to me. I 
expect you to hire all the labor which may be necessary to 
carry on the farming briskly, — hoeing, haying, and all the 
rest. Employ good men at fair prices, and their pay shall 
be ready when their work is done, or as it goes on. I en- 
close one hundred dollars to pay for labor. Go ahead ! I 
hope you and your family are all well. D. W. 



Mr. Webster enclosed a letter to John Taylor 
received by him from Porter Wright, telling of 
the quantities of kelp procured from the beaches 
near Marshfield for manure. On the back of the 
letter appears this endorsement : — 

Mk. Taylor, — Do you not wish that kelp was found in 
Merrimack River? D. W. 



Mahshfield, Sept. 6. 

Dear Sir, — "We had up our five yoke of four-year old 
steers to-day, and measured them. The smallest girded six 
feet seven inches, the largest six feet eleven inches. The 
black steer and his mate went six feet nine inches. If you 
get in the rye this week, and all necessary things done, you 
may come down the early part of next week, leaving Henry 
to take the lead and go ahead with the men. Let me hear 
from you. D. W. 



HOME LIFE: MAllSIIFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 303 

Marshfield, Sunday Evening, Sept 14. 
Dear Sir, — Your letter arrived, with great punctuality, 
last evening, and I was glad to hear from you. You appear 
to be getting along with work very well. I have felt quite 
anxious about the potatoes, and am glad to learn that, as late 
as Friday, no signs of rot appeared. My own health is much 
improved ; and, indeed, I now call myself well. I walk as 
well as ever, and have very little trouble from catarrh. The 
greater part of this week I shall be in Boston ; and, on the 
receipt of this, I wish you to write to me to the Revere 
House, Boston, and tell me about the potatoes. I suppose 
that this week you will have finished any thing which may 
remain at Northfield, got in all the grain, burnt the bushes, 
&c. I wish you to send down our two men next Saturday , 
and, if every thing should be perfectly safe about the pota- 
toes, I think you may as well come down yourself at that 
time for a day or two, as I sliall probably then be here. 
Please take the best care of the beef cattle. As the Pem- 
berton oxen are not quite large enough or fat enough, I am 
willing they should be exchanged for a larger and fatter 
pair. Mr. Noyes has moro leisure than you have, and you 
may ask him to look out and attend to this. I should like a 
pair so large and fat that one of them would suit you for 
beef, and the other do to come down here with the large oxen. 
We are all pretty well here except Mr. Morrison's children, 
two of whom are sick, but not dangerously. Do not leave 
home for a single day so long as there is any uncertainty 
about the potatoes. Your friend, 

Daniel Wupstkr 
John Taylor. 

[Private altogether.] 

Dear Sir, — I Avrite you this as a private letter, because 
1 wish to speak of things which I do not wish you to men- 
tion or give any hint of, even to any of your own f.miily. It 
is probable that I shall leave my present office icr good in 
June, or not later than the fourth of July. TV hat then re- 
mains of the summer I shall spend, as usual, at Marshfield 
and Franklin, and in some short journeys. In the fall, when 



o04 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

it gets too cold to stay longer at Marshfield, it is probable we 
shall take some small place in Boston for the wmter. There- 
fore, I wish you to be in season in looking out for some things. 
1. Potatoes. You are more likely to raise a crop of good 
potatoes than Porter Wright. I think the white Mercers 
are, on the whole, the best potato you can raise for the table. 
The red Mercer is not so good. For stock and other uses 
it may be well to use other good sorts, which are greater 
yielders; but I want one hundred bushels of first-rate white 
Mercers. If you have not the right seed, send for it to Mr. 
Breck, unless you can get it nearer. Probably you have it. 
Be careful on this point. 

2. Beef. Instead of selling all our beef in the summer, I 
propose to keep four or six of your four- year old steers till 
fall, and then feed them a time, so that we can have a fresh 
bullock whenever wanted. Four-year old steers are a very 
good age for fresh beef. 

3. Mutton. If you can, I wish you to buy fifteen or 
twenty wethers, now or whenever you can do it best ; not 
under two years old, and preferring three. The object is to 
keep thera through the summer, and fatten a little in the fall. 

4. Poultry. This is quite important. I doubt whether 
your boys can do much with geese and ducks ; but I wish 
them to lay out for a great flock of turkeys and chickens, — 
say one hundred of each. If you have not breeders enough, 
buy some good ones. Buckwheat is excellent for poultry. 
If you can find a couple of acres to sow with it, write 
Porter Wright to send you the seed and inform you what 
time to sow it. 

5, Wood. I wish a good quantity of firewood — oak and 

pme — to be cut, corded up, immediately after planting. 

When I see you we will agree where to cut it ; but, in the 

mean time, you can be looking out for some good hands to 

do the work. You will keep all these things entirely to 

yourself, and think of them. Yours, 

Daniel Webster. 
John Taylor. 

P. S. If there is any of this which you do not understand, 
write for explanations. 



HOME LIFE: MARSHiaELl) AND FRANKLIN, 305 

Boston, Sunday Moenikg. 

Mr. Taylok, — You may come down with the cattle on 
Wednesday, as my time grows short. I suppose you can 
bring them directly to Boston. I will see that somebody ia 
at Foster's stable on Thursday morning, with directions that, 
if the cattle are not there, to go to Cambridge for them. 
You will come on to Marshfield in the cars. You may bring 
down samples of your potatoes, and leave them at the Re- 
vere House for examination and trial. Inquire for Mr. Ste- 
vens or Mr. Pierson. I send you fifteen dollars to pay expense 
for bringing down the cattle, &c. If you prefer it, your 
William may come down with you, and drive the cattle to 
Marshfield, in which case, I need send nobody. If you like 
this, you must send me a letter Tuesday morning to Marsh- 
field, which will arrive Wednesday eve. If, when you get 
the cattle on board the cars, you think they will be quite 
9afe with William, you may take the passenger train and 
come directly through to Marshfield. I would not dig many 
TDore potatoes till the weather is cooler. 

Yours, 

Daniel Webster. 

Dear Sir, — I think I shall be up on Tuesday, first or 
B(!Cond train, — perhaps one friend with me. We will dine 
at four o'clock. Boil a leg of mutton and a bit of pork, and 
roast a small turkey. I should like to see the oxen and steers 
which Mr. Joseph Noyes bought at Meredith. Could you 
have them all down to your house Tuesday afternoon ? 

D. Webster. 

On the back of a letter from John Taylor, re- 
lating to some farming proposals, is endorsed the 
following : — 

Brother Farmer, — I agree to all that is written within, 
with two exceptions, or three. (1) I should be glad if you 
could put twenty instead of fifteen loads of manure on the 

20 



306 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL VVEBSTEK. 

corn land. (2) Three acres for turnips is not enough ; you 
should have six acres. (3) You must have somewhere, by 
the roadside, one acre or more of buckwheat. D. W. 

Washington, April 14, 1862. 

Dear Sir, — I am sorry for the loss of the ox, but hope 
it was produced by no carelessness. The Vermont oxen 
must go immediately to Marshfield. I hope George Andrews 
did not stop with them at Franklin : he had no instructions 
for that. If he left them there, send them down without 
the loss of a day. You must buy a mate for the living ox, 
or put him to fat and buy another pair. Your boys must be 
careful of such valuable cattle. This is the second ox we 
have lost by some accident, not well explained. 

Daniel Webster. 



Washington, June 1, 1852. 

John Taylor, — By this time, I suppose, you have com- 
mitted the greater part of your grains to the earth, and the 
rest remains to the providential arrangements of the season. 

"Be gracious, Heaven! for now laborious man 
Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes, blow I 
Ye softening dews, ye tender showers, descend! 
And temper all, thou world-reviving sun 
Into the perfect year ! ' ' 

D. W. 



Washington, June 14, 1852. 
John Taylor, — I expect to leave this place before this 
month is out, and think I shall go to Elms Farm before I go 
to Marshfield. I wish you immedi;itely to employ a proper 
hand to put the boat in order. Let her be thoroughly re- 
paired, with new timbers and sides if necessary, so that she 
may be perfectly safe, strong, and tight. See that she has 
good oars and a paddle and is well painted. Let the perch 
in Lake Como know that Mr. Blatchford is coming. 

Daniel Webster. 



HOME LIFE: MARSHFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 307 

New York, July 8, 1852. 
John Taylor, — T received Mr. Noyes's letter yesterday, 
and am exceedingly sorry to hear of your accident. I had 
no iiea the bull was so vicious. It is well he did not kill 
you. Mr. Lanraan says he means to take the law on him, 
1 expect to be in Boston to-night, and in Franklin some 
time on Monday. As you are disabled, you must have your 
long scythe ready for me. Mr. Lanman will go with me. 
He will supply us with fish from Lake Como. We shall 
take Monica along to cook them. Get Miss Tandy or 
Bome one elle to put the house in order. Mrs. Webster will 
go to Marshfield. I hope to find my mother's garden look- 
ing well. Be of good cheer ! 

Daniel Webster. 



Washington, Aug. 18, 1852. 
Dear Sir, — I have received your letter of the 15th, and 
have only time now to say that you may engage Mr. Carr to 
remove the house, and the sooner the better. 

Yours truly, 

Daniel Webster. 
John Taylor, Franklin. 

P. S. They are flooded with rain at Marshfield. Porter 
Wright cannot hoe his turnips, the ground is so wet. Grass is 
abundant, and all the farm most beautifully green. Keep the 
Marshfield men as long as you think proper. I sliall proba- 
bly send two horses, to be wintered at Franklin. If you 
think, in addition to these and to your present stock, you 
have fodder enough for twelve or fifteen yearling steers, 
you may be looking out for them, or for ten or a dozen 
good wethers. Engage no mean things. Tell Mr. George 
to go right ahead with the poultry yard. D. W. 

Marshfield, Sept. 13, 1852. 
John Taylor, — If my health should be good enough, I 
hope to be in Franklin the latter part of this month, and 
stay till the early part of October. We shall have manj 



308 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

things to do, and I hope you will get your affiiirs out of the 
way, so that I can have your entire personal attendance. 
Many arrangements are to be made for the farm where you 
are, and more for the Sawyer place. And then our accounts 
are all to be brought up and settled. You must excuse your- 
self from all cattle-shows ; nor must any of my stock of any 
kind be sent to any cattle-show this year. We shall have 
quite as much as we can do with our own affairs, as I wish 
to settle up every thing at Franklin as far as possible. Mrs. 
Webster will go with me. Probably we shall send up a 
pair of horses, and you must take care that the wagons and 
harnesses are all in good order. As you may have occasion, 
and if you can obtain decent prices, you will do well to sell 
off some cattle, till you bring your stock within your means 
for the winter. Your friend, 

Daniel Webster 

Mr. Colt, of New Jersey, once sent Mr. Webster 
some Hungarian cattle, among them a bull, — a 
small and rather vicious animal. John Taylor was 
taking him out of the barn one day, when the bull 
got away from him, threw him down, and began 
goring him. This was seen by some people who 
were standing near, but they did not dare to lend 
their aid. Finally, John got his fingers into the 
bull's nose, and held on tightly, but found his 
strength giving way ; when three or four men 
came up, took the bull by the horns, threw him 
down, and tied his legs. John was put under 
the physician's care immediately, for his wounds 
were serious, though not dangerous. The bull 
was tied up, and after that he was given a wide 
berth. This news went to Washington about the 
time Mr. Webster was coming on, and he said he 
would go and see John Taylor at once. He did 



HOME LIFE: MARSHFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 30'J 

SO ; found John convalescent, and finally asked him 
what they should do with the bull. John did not 
know. 

" Well," said Mr. Webster, " if he can't be man- 
aged, we shall have to kill him." 

John Taylor replied : — 

" I have no feeling of enmity against the bull. 
I'll tell you what it is, squire, I have not a 
very good opinion of Hungarian bulls. This one 
is a dangerous creature ; but he's not much 
more dangerous than that other Hungarian, Kos- 
suth, who is going round the country making 
speeches! " 

The following letters from Mr. Webster to John 
Taylor relate to these Hungarian cattle : — 

Trenton, March 26, 1852. 

JoHX Taylor, — I am here, attending a court, and shall 
return to Washington about next Monday. Mr. Colt, of 
this State, an old friend of mine, has made me a present 
of three imported Hungarian cattle, — one bull, one cow, 
and one yearling heifer. He will start them to-morrow for 
Boston, where they will be by the time you receive this let- 
ter ; and I wish you to go immediately down and take them 
lo Franklin in the cars. Mr. Colt does not like Kossuth, 
and requests that the bull shall not be called by that name. 
You may call him " Saint Stephen." I do not propose to 
keep these Hungarian cattle on your farm, to mix with your 
stock. We will find room for them in due time on the Saw- 
yer place, or elsewhere, I enclose you a check for thirty 
dollars. When you have seen the cattle, write me and tell 
me how you like them. If Southern corn is cheap in Boston, 
you may get as much as you will want at Mr. Otis Munroe's, 
Commercial Street. H you think it better to buy country 
corn, you may do so, and I -will send you the mouey. It 



310 EEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

seems time that Dr. Knight should be paid something for 
his kind profe.ssional services to me last fall. Please speak 
to him on that subject ; ask him to let me know what will 
be agreeable. He did me great good. Tell Mr. Horace 
Noyes that when I get to Washington I shall send him a 
check for Captain Sawyer, and write him also respecting the 
Sawyer place. I hope you are all well. Take good care of 
" Saint Stephen " and his two females. 

Daniel Webster. 

Washington, April 10, 1862. 

John Taylor, — I am glad the Hungarian cattle arrived 
safe, and that you liked them so well. I wish you to take 
the very best care of them, and keep them where they cannot 
be hurt. What I shall do with " Saint Stephen " I cannot 
yet tell. He has cost a mint of money ; and, unless the 
farmers in your neighborhood, and a good many of them, 
shall be willing, I shall send him to some part of the country 
where the people are more willing to be at some expense for 
the introduction of a new breed of cattle, — perhaps to the 
western part of New York. I shall write you again soon. 
The weather here is clear, but the mornings quite cold. 
You will buy whatever hay and corn you want to keep the 
cattle well. The great oxen should have meal, and be kept 
till there is a good bite of grass for them in the great pas- 
ture. What do you propose to do with the Stevens oxen ? 
Having the Marston oxen, and the black and red, and a pair 
of likely four or five year old steers, I presume they will be 
team enough. Let me know your ideas. ... I shall see 
you before planting. 

Danlel Webster. 

Mr. Webster, on one occasion, when he began 
housekeeping at Washington, apphed at an intelli- 
gence office for servants, and among others for a 
cook. The office sent to him Monica McCarty. 
She was rather young, probably not more than 



HOME LIFE: MAIISIIFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 311 

twenty, and a professional cook. She was a slave 
of the late Judge C, then of the Circuit Court. 
It was usual for owners of slaves to hire them out, 
precisely as they would their oxen and horses, to 
do service. Mrs. Webster was pleased with Monica. 
She was a good cook, and an excellent servant ; 
and the family became interested in her. Judge 
C. proposed to sell Monica to Mr. Webster ; but he 
was shocked at such an idea. He told the judge 
that he would not for any consideration on earth 
ever be the owner of a human being ; that the very 
thought of such a thing pained him. But he said 
he should like very much to procure by purchase 
Monica's freedom, and then employ her as a ser- 
vant to work it out. Judge C, who himself was a 
humane man, and who had no surplus of wealth, 
said he thought Monica was worth a thousand dol- 
lars, but he would sell her freedom to Mr. Webster 
for six hundred. Mr. Webster told Judge C. that, 
if he would give him an opportunity for easy pay- 
ment, he would pay him a hundred dollars down, 
give liim a note for five hundred dollars, and pay 
the note in instalments. Judge C. acceded to this 
proposition, and Mr. Webster carried and put upon 
record the papers making Monica a free woman. 
He then told her that he would charge her with 
the money and credit her liberally for her wages, 
giving her in the mean time enough for her sup- 
port ; but she must be his debtor for the amount, 
because he was a poor man himself, and could not 
afford to contribute the whole of it. She proved 
to be every thing that he anticipated, a most faith 



312 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

ful servant and excellent cook. After Mr. Web- 
ster's death, Monica told me that he always paid 
wages to her without any reference to the money 
that he had paid for her freedom ; that she had 
always had full wages, and that she had never had 
to spend a dollar for clothes, Mrs. Webster, by 
presents and otherwise, furnishing her with them : 
so that at Mr. Webster's death she had about two 
thousand dollars in the savings' bank. Monica's 
devotion to Mr. Webster, and her affection for him, 
were very remarkable. A single fact will illustrate 
the pride she had in his service. 

General Pierce, who was elected President shortly 
after Mr. Webster's death, knowing that he had 
this famous cook, and supposing that Mrs. Webster 
would not wish to keep her, applied to me to know 
if I thought he could get Monica to superintend the 
kitchen of the White House. 

I told him I would speak to her, and see what 
she said ; which I did. 

" I cook for General Pierce ? " she replied : 
" No, to be sure, I won't. After I have been Mr. 
Webster's cook, I never will be General Pierce's. 
I'll come and cook for you, Mr. Harvey, but I 
wouldn't cook for General Pierce." 

On the night on which Mr. Webster died, Monica 
was in his room ; and I think I never witnessed 
grief more marked and deep than hers, so much 
so that she was almost beside herself. She went 
up to Dr. Warren, when Mr. Webster appeared to 
be suffering a great deal, and said : — 

" You are a doctor, and you have no right to let 



HOME LIFE: MARSHFIELD AND FRANIvLIN. olo 

him suffer so ; can't you give him something to 
keep him from such pain?" 

The next day she said : — 

" Oh, he was the best friend, and the only real 
friend, I ever had ; oh, what shall I do ? " 

Monica was a very devoted Methodist. In Wash- 
ington, she always attended the Methodist church 
half a day each Sunday. INIrs. Webster had taught 
her to read, and her memory was pretty good : slie 
could repeat almost the whole of Watts's Hymns. 
Mrs. Webster always made it a point on Sabbath 
evening to take Monica to her room and read to 
her from the New Testament, and from other re- 
ligious books ; for which she was very grateful. 

Monica returned to Washington, where she was 
recently living, and perhaps still is, at a very ad- 
vanced age. 

In connection with this story of Monica, I may 
speak of another slave whose freedom Mr. Webster 
assisted to purchase. Mrs. Webster had a female 
servant who was free, but who was married to a man 
who was a slave. His name was Bean. He was a 
valuable man, very competent, and Mr. Webster had 
suggested to him to purchase his freedom from his 
owners, who were merchants in Alexandria, and 
members of a large forwarding house. They told 
him that he might have his freedom for fifteen 
hundred dollars, and that he might go wherever 
he pleased and earn it, and bring it to them from 
time to time. Whenever he should bring them 
fifteen hundred dollars, they said, they would give 
him his freedom papers. Mr. Webster assisted 



oi4 llEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

Bean in drawing up an agreement with his owners ; 
and his money, as he earned it from time to time, 
was confided to a wealthy banker in Washington 
who allowed him interest on the money he de- 
posited, to help make up the amount. Mr. Web- 
ster gave him his own cast-off clothes, and as Bean 
was about the size of Mr. Webster, he could wear 
his clothes very well. Bean worked bravely, and 
made good progress in paying off this mortgage on 
himself. 

In 1846, I think, I was in Mr. Webster's house 
in Washington, and we had been to church and re- 
turned. Before dinner Mr. Webster said to me : 

" Let's go into the kitchen and see Monica." 

We went down, and found Monica cooking the 
dinner. This man Bean was also there ; he had 
come over to see his wife. He was dressed in a 
suit of Mr. Webster's, about half worn, — a nice 
suit ; and he looked as respectable as any man, in 
Mr. Webster's cast-off blue. Mr. Webster began 
a conversation with him in regard to the finan- 
cial condition of his freedom fund. Bean told him 
that he had accumulated, I think, all but one 
hundred and seventy-five dollars (it was certainly 
less than two hundred dollars) of the sum required 
to complete the purchase of his freedom. He was 
still earning wages ; and he added : — 

" I am bringing every thing to bear upon that 
result. I am spending nothing ; and I am look- 
ing for the hour to arrive in which I shall be a 
free man. I make every corner cut, and where 
I can't make it cut, I make it bruise." 



HOME LIFE: MAllSHFIELD AND FRANKLIN. 315 

I laughed over that expression, and it also pleased 
Mr. Webster very much. He said to Bean, smil- 
ing : " Go on ; don't relax a muscle ; make every 
corner cut, and where you can't make it cut, make 
it bruise ; and when the month of September ar- 
rives [this, perhaps, was June], whatever you lack 
of this two hundred dollars I will make up. I 
know," he added, " that you will not relax exer- 
tion in consequence of this promise of mine. You 
know that I am poor myself ; but you shall be free 
in September." 

Bean was very grateful for this promise, and he 
did go bravely on. Mr. Webster made up the dif- 
ference, which was about sixty dollars, and Bean 
was free in September. He showed his gratitude 
to Mr. Webster in every way that was possible. 



CHAPTER IX. 

PERSONAL TRAITS 

To the outer world, beyond the immediate cir- 
cles of his friends and companions, Daniel Webster 
seemed to be a reserved, reticent, even austere 
man. It was only to the familiar and trusted few 
that he unbosomed himself ; and they alone could 
form a full judgment of his virtues and failings. 
He had few intimate advisers, and knew how to 
keep his own secrets. It was rarely that he talked 
even with his friends about public men or meas- 
ures; rarely that he touched upon the deeper 
problems (of which, nevertheless, he thought much 
and often) concerning the soul and its destiny. He 
did not " let himself out," and display his lighter, 
frolicsome, and humorous moods, except in pres- 
ence of those whom he had known long and well, 
and between whom and himself there existed strong 
mutual attachment. Those who did know him as 
he was, however, were aware that not only was he 
simple in manners, and often boyish in spirits ; not 
only was he hearty, hospitable, and affectionate, 
steadfast in his love of his family and his attach- 
ment to his friends, kind of heart towards men 
and towards animals, courteous to his adversaries, 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 317 

courageous, benevolent, — but that he was also fond 
of fun, and had a very keen zest for, and sense of, 
the humorous. 

Nothing was more touching and pleasant to see 
than his tender devotion to his family. His respect 
and affection for his parents have already been 
remarked. Through life he kept their revered 
memories green in his heart. He was always fond 
of talking about them, and often recalled incidents 
of his childhood and youth in order to illustrate 
their parental virtues. One of these incidents, 
which he related with a certain pride, may be 
told. His constitution in youth was very deli- 
cate, and it was partly for this reason that he 
was sent to college instead of being kept at home 
to work on the farm. His head was always large, 
and he was supposed to be threatened with the 
rickets. His mother on one occasion took him to 
the sea-side, to the Boar's Head at Hampton Beach, 
that he might try the sea-bathing. There were 
no coaches in those days in that part of the coun- 
try ; and his mother travelled to the coast alone, 
on horseback, carrying him in her arms. As Mr. 
Webster told this, he would exclaim with much 
feeling : — 

" There was a mother for you ! " 

As he matured in life he grew stronger : his early 
indulgence in field sports confirmed his health, 
and provided him at last with unusual physical 
vigor and strength. He was a capital wrestler, and 
often, when his two sons had become men grown, 
be would challenge them to wrestle, and could 



I 

■^ 1 



318 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

very readily throw either of them. The habit of JJ 
out-door recreation was continued throughout his 
life. 

Fletcher Webster said that the first he could 
remember of his father was when they lived on 
Mount Vernon Street, in Boston. 

" I can see him now distinctly," said Fletcher, 
*' dressed in a frock coat, with tight pantaloons, a 
pair of long blucher boots reaching to the knee 
and adorned with a tassel, a bell-crowned beaver 
hat set a little on one side of his head, and a rid- 
ing whip in his hand as he proceeded to mount his 
horse for his morning ride. He drove out some ten 
days prior to his death, when he went to give some 
directions for breaking up a piece of greensward, 
and to visit the tomb, and tell me where he wished 
the monuments for his wife and children to be 
placed. After indicating the position of each, he 
pointed to one other spot, and gave me a look. I 
understood him well, but neither of us spoke. His 
monument now stands upon that spot. It may be 
remarked here that he always avoided as much 
as possible any allusion to sad things and unpleas- 
ant occurrences ; not that he had any superstition, 
such as was common to the ancients, in their disin- 
clination to use words of ill omen, but from regard 
tc the feelings of others, and a desire to be and to 
make others cheerful." 

To the memory of the lady who won his earliest 
affection, who shared the trials and the triumphs 
of his early manhood, Mr. Webster retained to the 
end of life an unfaltering devotion. He could 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 319 

uever speak of his first wife without visible emo- 
tion. Grace Fletcher Webster was a person of very 
delicate organization, both physically and intellect- 
ually ; yet she was energetic, and when occasion 
required, she exhibited a rare fortitude. To her 
husband's welfare she was entirely devoted. She 
presided over his household with peculiar grace 
and dignity, and really seemed to live for him. 
When he was at home, she sought his comfort and 
pleasure ; when he was absent, her thoughts, as her 
beautiful letters testify, were of him day and night. 
Many of these letters remain to tell us still of her 
gentle and winning traits, her kind and persuasive 
discourse, her generous and confiding love, and her 
wise appreciation of her husband's talents and char- 
acter. She wrote to him almost daily. Each letter 
reported the condition and feelings of each child, 
was a complete photograph of the household, and 
showed in every line her steadfast interest in the 
idol of her heart. These letters are redolent of 
home, of domestic joys, of the innocent pursuits 
and trials of children, of the fond solicitudes of a 
loving mother and admiring wife. No one can 
read these transcripts of Mrs. Webster's daily life 
without recallinyr Wordsworth's tribute to such a 
wife : — 

" A perfect woman, nobly planned, 

To warn, to comfort, and command ; 
And yet a spirit still and bright, 
With something of angelic light." 

Indeed, she might have sat, too, for that beau- 
tiful picture of the wife drawn by Washington 



320 KEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

Irving : " As the vine which has long twined its 
graceful foliage about the oak, and been lifted by 
it into sunshine, will, when the hardy plant is rifted 
by the thunderbolt, cling round it with its caress- 
ing tendrils, and bind up its shattered boughs ; so 
it is beautifully ordered by Providence that woman, 
who is the mere dependent and ornament of man 
in his happier hours, should be his stay and solace 
when smitten with sudden calamity, winding her- 
self into the rugged recesses of his nature, tenderly 
supporting the drooping head and binding up the 
broken heart." 

On one of Mr. and Mrs. Webster's journeys to 
Washington, they were detained at New York by 
the serious illness of Mrs. Webster ; at which time 
they received the hospitality of Dr. Cyrus Perkins, 
one of Mr. Webster's early friends. Here they 
found all the comforts of their own fireside, and the 
best of medical advice besides. Mr. Webster's at- 
tentions to his wife durino; her last illness were con- 
stant, and his devotion to her slightest wishes was 
intense and unwearied. Mrs. Perkins said that he 
allowed himself scarcely any rest day or night, so 
great was his anxiety for his wife's relief from pain. 
He became purveyor at the market and the shops 
to find little delicacies that would suit her taste. If 
she did not relish the flavor of the tea, he begged 
the privilege of purchasing a different kind for the 
common use of the family while they remained 
as guests in it. When Mrs. Webster was able to 
listen, he read to her from her favorite authors, 
watching with most affectionate interest the mo- 



PEKSONAL TRAITS. 321 

ment when her interest flagged, or her eye drooped. 
Then he instantly changed the themes, or sought 
for her some other sohice. One day she expressed 
a wish for a wood fire such as she had been accus- 
tomed to have at home. He rephed at once, 
" You shall have it ; " and forthwith he sent for 
a mason, removed the coal grate, and had a wood 
fire built in the fire-place. He did not even stop 
to consider that he was altering the house of an- 
other ; his beloved wife would be cheered by it in 
her anguish, and this was enough. He watched 
every article of food prepared for the patient, and 
insisted that the same dish should not be offered 
twice to her. One morning, Mrs. Perkins ordered 
for her a roasted quail, but Mrs. Webster felt no 
inchnation to taste it then. It was served up for 
her warmed, at another hour of the day. Mr. Web- 
ster seemed quite hurt that this delicate morsel 
should be presented after it had been once refused. 
He thought that something new should be set be- 
fore her every time she would consent to taste of 
food. 

Observing the nurse to be dispirited and sad, 
he went out directly and purchased for her a new 
dress of gay colors as a present, hoping, as he said, 
that it would make her more cheerful. He was 
himself seized with illness from over anxiety and 
exertion, in tending his wife ; and while confined 
to his own room, he insisted on being informed 
every hour, by day and night, of the progress and 
symptoms of Mrs. Webster's malady. All who wit- 
nessed his unwearied devotion to her welfare were 

21 



o22 TIE.MINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

deeply impressed with the strength of his affection 
for her. The love of youth seemed to have ac- 
quired new strength with increase of years. 

Having been permitted to copy a few of these 
letters for publication, I have thought that they 
would give the reader a better idea of Mrs. Web- 
ster's character than any commentary could do. 
Several of those selected were written near the time 
of the death of her beautiful little boy, Charles, in 
1824, and are tinged with a mellowed and touching 
sadness, though the general tone of her epistles was 
joyous and hopeful. 

December 29, 1824. 

Till yesterday, my dear husband, I have not, for a long 
time, had the satisfaction of writing to you. I sliould not 
again attempt it, with the difficulty I find in holding the 
pen, but for the hope that it may be some small consolation 
to you. 

Yours of Friday I received this morning. I am well 
aware how different must now be your feelings at the com- 
ing in of the mail, now that hope is dead. Yes, my dear, 
we were too happy, and no doubt needed to be reminded 
that treasures which we call ours are but lent favors. From 
the moment I receive them I endeavor to consider them as 
such ; but I have need to be reminded of the frail tenure of 
this mortal life. 

Poor Eliza is indeed a ministering angel to me. None 
but yourself could have afforded me so much consolation ; 
and yet I felt as if it was wrong to suffer her griefs to be 
renewed for me. 

Every consolation that the kindness and sympathy of 
friends can give is juine. 

Heaven bless you, my dear, and comfort and sustain you 
in every trial, and bring you at the end to the reward of the 
righteous ! 

Prays your affectionate G. W. 

Eliza has gone. 



TEESONAL TRAITS. 323 

Friday Morning, December 31. 

This, my dear husband, is dear little Charles's birthday 
J3ut where is he? In his bed of darkness. Every thing looks 
bright and gay, but nothing can bring joy to the heart of a 
?\iother who mourns the untimely death of a beloved child. 

Three years since, I sent you a lock of hair with emotions 
how different from the present ! I now send a precious lit- 
tle lock which you have often seen on his beautiful bi-ow. I 
think it will be some satisfaction to look on it once more. 

I am sorry not to send the pin, but it is not quite done. 
I have often thought why was the pin you had made for me, 
with the little lock I sent you, a mourning one. But it is all 
right now. 

I am indebted to you for two letters, my dear husband, 
and it is so difficult for me to write I should hardly attempt 
it, but for the fear you will be discouraged with writing to 
me. I can only hold the pen between my fingers ; my 
thumb is still useless. 

1 am greatly obliged to all our friends at Washington 
and elsewhere for their sympathy and kindness. I have re- 
ceived two letters from Portsmouth, — one from Mrs. Mason 
and another from Mrs. P., — full of kindness and sympathy. 
The interest our friends there seem to take in us and in our 
children is grateful, particularly at such a time as this. 

I find it is only six weeks since you left us. I have passed 
through such painful scenes, and have had so many weari- 
some days and nights, that the time seems very lengthened. 

I heard yesterday that Eliza is sick. I feel very anxious 
lest she has a fever. Mr. Blake offered to carry me to see 
ter, and I am to go at eleven o'clock. 

I am very glad that you say you are well. May Heaven 
long continue the blessing ! The children are now all well, 
and all at school. 

Yours ever, G. W 



January 10, 1825. 

I have just received yours of the 5th, my dear husband, 
which I am very glad to see, as I have had no letter from 



324 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

you for two clays, and I feel uneasy if a longer time elapses, 
lest something should be wrong with you. I hope your 
health is better than it was the last winter. 

I thank you for the enclosed scrap of poetry, which I 
found in your letter. It is very beautiful. It makes me 
think of Edward's reflections on dear little Charles : though 
he saw him committed to the silent tomb, he always speaks 
of him as alive. If any one mentions him as dead, Edward 
says : " No, he is not dead ; he is alive in a beautiful place, 
where he has every thing he wants." The poor little fellow 
was at first inconsolable. I never saw a child so affected at 
such an event. He wept till it seemed as though his little 
heart would break. Among other things which seemed 
to renew his grief, was the little wagon. He said he had 
"no one now to help him drag the wagon." Dr. W. was 
here and saw Neddy's grief, and he tried to console him by 
describing the pleasures of the place to which the dear child 
had gone ; and Edward smiled, and said he would not cry 
any more. And the idea that Charles has every thing he 
wants has perfectly satisfied him. Is he not more rational 
than those who are older ? I feel that he is. 

Julia saw a beautiful pair of socks which she wished to 
buy for Mrs. Jaudon's baby, and I intended she should have 
had the pleasure ; but I forgot it, or I could not attend to it, 
for I have been reminded. 

We are almost frozen here. I hope it is more mild where 
you are. 

Mrs. Blake, I think, will go, though she does not say 
much about it. Her only difficulty is to know what to do 
with George. I shall be too late for the mail. Adieu. 

Yours ever, G. W. 



Boston, Jan. 14, 1827. 
I was very happy, my dear husband, to receive a short 
letter from you yesterday, and was very sorry not to answer 
it, as I did not write the day before. I went to see Mrs. 
Bliss, and stayed some time, and then good cou.sin Eliza 
came and stayed till it was too late. 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 326 

Julia is sitting by mc, and trying to write with red ink ; 
80 I use the same, as she thinks it looks prettier. She 
desires me to say it is our birthday. I have seen too many 
to feel it a joyful anniversary, though as our dear little 
daughter's is united with mine, it cannot fail of being inter- 
esting to me. The dear little soul has been saving every 
cent of her money for a long time for something, — no one 
in the world knew for what, — counting it almost daily, to 
see if she had gained any thing. She said she took as much 
pleasure as a miser in counting her money. 

To-day the secret is out. She wished to buy mother a 
pair of bracelets to match her pearl ornaments, with ame- 
thyst clasps ! As she was not able to go out herself, she con- 
fided it to WilUam ; but he persuaded her to wait till she 
was well enough to select them herself. 

I thank you, my dearest love, for a short letter written 
Thursday evening. I rejoice with you on the arrival of Mr. 
Bliss. He will be a comfort to you, and I am most happy 
to say their baby is considered out of danger. I saw Mrs. 
B. yesterday, and she was in good spirits. I have heard 
this morning that it is almost well. 

Cousin Eliza is coming to dine with us to-day. Julia 
sends much love, and wishes me to say that she hopes for a 
letter. She thinks it is our due. 

I received with delight Mr. Canning's speech in Parlia- 
ment. He is a jewel in the crown of Great Britain. Such 
a mind is one of Heaven's best gifts. Every other earthly 
possession is dross to it. You will think, I fancy, that I am 
in the heroic vein this morning. I do feel inspired, with two 
letters from you, and reading Mr. Canning's speech ; but I 
am, As ever, entirely yours, 

Grace Websteb. 



Boston, Jan. 18, 1827. 

I have been reading this morning a speech of yours, my 
beloved husband,which makes me hail this anniversary of your 
birth with increased delight. May Heaven add blessings 
with years ; and many, many may it add to a life so valued 



326 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

aud so valuable ! I pity the man so dead to every senti- 
ment, not only of honor but honesty, that could need an 
argument to convince him of the justice of the claim ycu 
urged ; and I blush for the honor of our country that there 
should be a majority of such sordid souls in Congress, I 
hope you will pardon me for meddling with such high mat- 
ters. I hope you will find some relief from your labors now 
you have Mr. Bliss. I am sorry he should be made unhappy 
by the illness of their little boy ; but he will be doubly happy 
to know that it is quite well again. Oh, that is happiness 
beyond expression ! 

We are all well, though very cold. Our windows have 
not been free from frost since night before last. 

Julia wrote you a letter, which I shall send with this. 
She is mortified to send it, but it costs her a great deal of 
labor to write, and I am not willing she should go over it 
again. It is her first attempt at writing. 

Aunt Mary, Daniel, and Julia join with me in love. Daniel 
says, tell papa I have read his speech. And he as well as 
Julia are very decided in favor of the bill. Adieu, 

Yours ever, G. W. 

P. S. I have said nothing of poor Neddy. He has not 
yet returned from school. Here he comes, almost frozen. 
He says his feet were freezing at school, and Miss B. 
would not let him warm them ! He wishes me to o-ive a 
great deal of love to papa. We have had quite a discussion 
about the seal, "Forgive the wish that would have kept 
thee here " is the one Julia has chosen for hers. Neddy 
says that he thinks it is a good one, for we did not want 
papa to go away. 

Friday Morning, 11 o'clock, Dec. 1827. 

The first tribute of my heart is to the God who gives me 
strength to write, and the fiist of my pen to you, my bef^t 
beloved. 

I need not say how much I rejoice to hear of your safe 
and rapid journey; but I do not trust myself to say oua 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 327 

word further on the subject, so different lins Providence 
ordered things from what I had promised myself, I am as 
comfortable since you left, but I fear I do not make much 
progress ; but I beg you will not be too anxious about me, 
nor too much enhance the value of this poor life by youi 
love for me. 

Dr. Post is to be here this morning. I have rather a 
dread of seeing him. I fear I am apt to be depressed more 
after a consultation. I can hardly tell why. 

This is not such a letter as I would write you, my dearest 
liusband ; but such as it is, I know you will be glad to re- 
ceive it from 

Your devoted G. W. 



Saturday Morning, 10 o'clock. 

I wrote you yesterday, ray beloved husband, a very poor 
letter; but I flatter myself that a poor letter from me will 
be as acceptable as a good one from another. 

I am sorry you do not get letters every day ; but do not, 
my dear love, be too anxious about me. I felt in better 
spirits after Dr. Post was here, though I dreaded to see him. 
I would not have you, my dear husband, put yourself to the 
hardship of returning so soon as you talked of when you 
left, if I should continue as comfortable as I am now, though 
I sometimes feel the want of your cheering presence, and 
dear Daniel's kind and affectionate looks. But I am, in 
other respects, as well off as I can be anywhere. I am 
greatly obliged to all my friends for their kindness, and for 
all the kind inquiries of those nt Washington. Please retura 
my acknowledgments and my love, particularly to Mr. and 
Mrs. Agg. It was among my most pleasant anticipations 
that I should have a sincere and hearty welcome from them ; 
but I endeavor to be perfectly submissive to this dispensa- 
tion of Providence. I feel persuaded it is all for some wise 
purpose; but it is sometimes hard to say, " Not my will but 
Thine be done." 

I fear you will hardly be able to read this, which I write 
lying on the sofa. 



328 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

I hope your health still continues good, and that we shall 
meet again under more favorable circumstances than we 
parted. 

Farewell, dearest and best. May Heaven bless and keep 
you ! prays 

Your own affectionate G. W. 

P. S. Julia desires much love. Neddy is upstairs. 

This was the last letter she ever wrote to her 
husband ; and upon the back of this and that which 
precedes it Mr. Webster wrote, " My dear Grace's 
two last letters." 

The following has been related as the manner in 
which Mr. Webster became engaged to this loving 
and devoted wife. He saw her first, when he was 
a young lawyer at Portsmouth, and she was Miss 
Grace Fletcher. At one of his visits he had, prob- 
ably with a view of utility and enjoyment, been 
holding skeins of silk thread for her, when sud- 
denly he stopped, saying, — 

" Grace, we have been engaged in untying knots ; 
let us see if we can tie a knot which will not untie 
for a life- time." 

He then took a piece of tape, and, after begin- 
ning a knot of a peculiar kind, gave it to her to 
complete. This was the ceremony and ratification 
of their engagement. And in the little box marked 
by him with the words " Precious Documents," con- 
taining the letters of his early courtship, this unique 
memorial was found, — the knot never untied. 

The same warmth of feeling which he exhibited 
towards his wife, extended to the other members 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 329 

of liis family. He was very affectionate, tender, 
and considerate in his home Kfe. 

Fletcher Webster used to tell an anecdote which, 
with others already related, serves to illustrate Mr. 
Webster's gentle method of treating his children. 
Fletcher observed, one rainy night when his father 
was out, that the front door was locked. Thinking 
that if his father should return he would be locked 
out, and perhaps be put to much inconvenience, 
Fletcher unlocked the door. It so happened that 
on that very night some rogue slipped into the hall, 
and stripped the hat-tree of all the garments that 
were hanging upon it. 

" I first heard of the robbery at breakfast," said 
Fletcher ; " and instantly remembered that I had 
unfastened the door on the previous evening. In 
a faltering voice I told what I had done. My 
father and mother exchanged glances ; and seeing 
me about to burst into tears, father called me to 
him, took me upon his knee, and after speaking 
some gentle words of comfort, explained my 
mistake. He told me why the door should be 
locked, and how he could enter, though it might 
be fastened." 

A few years before his death, Mr. Webster had 
a double and terrible affliction. At the same time 
that his daughter, Mrs. Julia Webster Appleton, 
lay dying of consumption, the remains of his son 
Edward were being brought back from Mexico, 
where he had lost his life fighting the battles of 
his country. Mr. Webster was in Boston, awaiting 
the arrival of the remains of the son and the last 



330 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

hour of the beloved daughter. He was very much 
bowed down and broken with grief. He had been 
reta^ined by the Lowell Railroad to go before a com- 
mittee of the Legislature which was then in session, 
to procure some grant, or to resist some measure di- 
rected against their charter. The hearing was held 
in the hall of the House of Representatives ; be- 
cause, when it was known that Mr. Webster would 
appear as counsel, there was always a crowd anx- 
ious to see and hear him. He appeared before the 
committee, with other counsel, to argue his client's 
cause. When the committee adjourned, and he came 
out, he took my arm and we walked down the steps 
of the State House, toward Mr. Paige's house in 
Summer Street, where he was stopping with Mrs. 
Webster. As we came into Winter Street (Mr. 
Appleton's house was in this street) he stopped 
at his daughter's door. I saw that he was very 
much affected. 

" Come in a moment," said he, " and see poor 
Julia ; I cannot pass the house without stopping, 
although I have been in four times to-day already." 

So I entered the hall. 

" Go up," he whispered. 

It was a raw July day, I remember, although the 
Bun shone brightly ; it was one of those deceitful 
days peculiar to our climate. The door which led 
to Mrs. Appleton's room was thrown open; she 
was seated in front of an open grate, surrounded 
by her nurses. The glass over the mantle revealed 
her face to me, although I was behind her ; it was 
more corpse-like than any living face I had ever 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 331 

seen. She had her father's eyes, those great black 
lustrous eyes ; and the contrast with this deathly 
expression was very startling. Mrs. Appleton had 
recognized the voice of her father, who had re- 
mained downstairs. I was announced, and stepped 
forward and took her hand. She merely grasped 
my hand in return, and immediately spoke of her 
father. 

" Did he wear an overcoat to-day ? " said she. 

I told her that he did not. 

" Father, oh, how can you expose yourself so ? 
Do, for my sake, put on an overcoat ! It is very 
imprudent in you to be out in such weather with- 
out an overcoat." 

She seemed absorbed in his welfare. He did not 
come into the room ; and when I shook her hand 
and passed out, he was waiting by the foot of the 
stairs ; he was in tears, but restrained any audible 
expression of grief. 

As soon as we had passed out he took my arm, 
and we starXed down the street to Mr. Paige's 
house. His whole expression was that of the 
deepest grief. He seemed to be absorbed in a 
terrible struggle until we got to the door of Mr. 
Paige's house. We passed in, and Mr. Webster 
threw himself upon the sofa in the parlor. No 
one was there, and he burst into a paroxysm of 
grief, such as I do not think I ever before wit- 
nessed. He wept and wept, as if his heart would 
break. 

" That poor child," said he, " there she is suffer- 
ing and dying, and, just like her mother, thinking 



332 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

of everybody but herself. That is what affects me 
so, — to see the poor child dying, and not thinking 
of herself, but of everybody else first. She is the 
best woman that ever lived except her mother ! 
A¥hat shall I do ? What shall I do ? " 

Mr, Webster was completely overcome by his 
grief. He dropped asleep after a while, and I left 
him. 

Mr. Webster was very tenacious of early friend- 
ships. Those which he formed in college he cher- 
ished with unabated interest till death. Letters 
written at different times in the course of nearly 
half a century breathe the same spirit of devoted 
attachment. Writing to a friend of his youth, Mr. 
Bingham, in 1802, he says : — 

" I thank you for the expressions of friendship 
your letter contained, and for the assurance that a 
part of your time is devoted to me. At this period 
of our acquaintance I need not tell you what pleas- 
ure I receive from vour letters, nor with what ex- 
ultation my heart glows under the impression that 
our early congenial attachment will never be sun- 
dered. It may look a little like vanity, flattery, 
and puerility ; but I think I may say that you will 
continue to occupy the parlor of my aifections till 
Madam comes. Madam, you know, must have the 
parlor ; but even then you shall not be cast off into 
the kitchen." 

Such professions of lasting friendship are often 
made by the young, and forgotten. Not so with 
Mr. Webster. A letter from him to the same gen- 
tleman, dated Washington, Feb. 5, 1849, shows the 



•i 



PERSONAL TKAITS. 333 

sincerity with which he wrote in 1802. It is as 
follows : — 

Washington, Feb. 5, 1849. 

My dear old Classmate, Room-mate, and Friend, — 
It gives me very true pleasure to hear from you, and to learn 
that you are well. Years have not abated my affectionate 
regard. We have been boys together and men together, and 
now are growing old together. But you always occupy the 
same place in my remembrance and good wishes. You are 
still James Hervey Bingham, with your old bass-viol, with 
" Laus Deo " painted upon it (I hope you have got it yet) ; 
and I am the same D. W. Avhom you have known at Exeter, 
at Lcmpster, at Captain John McClure's, at Hanover, at 
Charlestown, at Salisbury, at Alstead, at Portsmouth, Clarfr 
raont, Boston, and Washington. 

And now, my dear friend, after this retrospective glimpse, 
let me say that I know nothing of those who are coming 
into power ; that I expect to possess no particular influence 
or association with them : but that, if any occasion arises in 
which I can be useful to you, you can command my most 
attentive services. 

Will you please give my love to a lady whom I bad onco 
the honor of knowing as Miss Charlotte Kent ? 

Daniel Webster. 
J. H. Bingham, Esq. 

Writing to another classmate, in 1803, he says : 
" Enviable was my fortune, last week, in having 
Bingham with me three days. Seven years of in- 
timacy has made him dear to me ; and he is like 
a good old penknife, — the longer you have it the 
better it proves, and wears brighter till it wears 
out." 

In another letter, written in 1804, to the same 
gentleman. Rev. Thomas A. Merrill, of Middlebury, 
Vt., he says : — 



334 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTHR. 

" T am liappy in the opportunity of spending — 
I mean, of enjoying — a half-hour with Merrill. 
What is this world worth without the enjoyment 
of friendship and the cultivation of the social feel- 
ings of the heart ? For a life consumed in money- 
making, fame-seeking, and noise-making I would 
not give more than eighteen pence, which is seven- 
teen pence half-penny and one farthing more than 
it is worth. Thomas, Thomas, I wish I could 
see you ! . . . My heart is now so full of matters 
of importance to be whispered into the ear of a 
trusty friend, that I think I could pour them into 
yours till you would have no room to receive 
them." 

The entire correspondence of these gentlemen 
evinces a mutual confidence and esteem which con- 
tinued during a long life. 

Mr. Webster loved those friends most who sought 
his society from unselfish motives ; who expected 
neither office nor emolument of him. Writing to 
Mr. Blatchford, in 1851, he says: — 

" It is my fervent wish that your friendship, as 
a source of happiness to me, may continue to re- 
fresh and gladden my way through all the little 
remainder of the path which is yet to be trod- 
den by me. Heaven's blessing rest on you and 
yours, and may you see many, many happy days 
Avhen all that you know of me shall be matter of 
memory ! " 

Mr. Isaac P. Davis used to say that, during his 
long acquaintance with Mr. Webster, he never knew 
him to speak ill of anybody ; nor would ho ever 



PERSONAL TIJAITS. 33'5 

allow scandal of others to be spoken in his presence. 
He always checked young people, if he heard them 
discussing freely the faults of others. To his own 
children he would say, on such occasions : " Come, 
my children, have you not said enough ? " He 
once remarked to Mr. Davis : " In my youth, 1 
used sometimes to be severe in my criticisms ; but 
my feelings have now changed. I always regret 
the utterance of a harsh w^ord." The desire to 
obliterate the memory of bitter political controver- 
sies is nowhere more strongly manifested than in 
his request to the editor of his Works, to blot out 
all personal allusions and soften all harsh exprea 
sions. This, too, was made with special reference to 
his reply to one of the most malignant attacks ever 
made upon a public man. The accomplished scholar 
who had that work in charge (Mr. Everett) said in 
reply : " I will try to soften the language of that 
speech, but it is difficult to make a trip-hammer 
strike softly." Mr. Webster loved to see old dis- 
putes adjusted, and alienated friends reconciled. 
For this purpose his own kind offices were often 
tendered to others. This trait of his character is 
liappily illustrated in the history of two eminent 
Missourians, Colonel Benton and John Wilson, which 
I have already narrated. 

It w^as Mr. Webster's custom in debate to give to 
an opponent all the advantage which his character, 
station, and ability ought in reason to command. 
He admitted the full force of his opponent's argu- 
ments, and stated them in reph'- with all fairness and 
candor, sometimes even more forciblv and clearlv 



o o 



oG RKMINISCENCES OF UANHCL WEBSTER. 

than the opponent himself. He considered well the 
strength and munitions of the fortress before he 
opened his fire. He calculated carefully the ene- 
my's advantages, and compared them with his own. 
When convinced that his own position was impreg- 
nable, he dismissed care and gave himself up to 
the " repose of conscious power." There is a single 
expression of his which indicates a governing prin- 
ciple of his public life, — one which ought to be 
engraven in letters of gold over the entrance of 
every court of justice, every hall of legislation, and 
every church in the land. It is this : " I war with 
principles, and not with men." The occasion on 
which it was uttered was this : During the heated 
controversy about nullification, men became per- 
sonal in their debates. Sometimes violence was 
threatened to individuals. Many armed themselves 
to repel an assault if they should be attacked. Mr. 
Webster was prominent in +he debate ; but, as usual, 
discussed the avowed sentiments of his antagonists^ 
and not their private character. His son, anxious 
for his father's safety, once inquired of him why he, 
too, did not arm himself. Other gentlemen did, and 
advantage might be taken of his defenceless condi- 
tion. His reply was : — 

'•'My son, I war with principles, and not wilh 
men. ] give no occasion for a personal assault. 
Besides," he added, drawing himself up to his full 
height, " few men would venture to assail me in 
the street ; and, if one should, he would probably 
be put to rest for a fortnight for his temerity." 

If every public speaker and writer would adopt 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 337 



the same rule of controversy, to " war with prhici- 
ples and not with men," it would almost regener- 
ate our politics. It would allay party animosities 
and softrn sectional prejudices. Only in two in- 
stances during his long public life did Mr. Webster 
call forth the personal animosity of any opponent. 
Twice he was challenged to fight a duel by John 
Randolph, of Roanoke. The first challenge was in 
1816, for words spoken in debate by Mr. Webster. 
The quarrel appears to have been amicably adjusted, 
as a letter from Mr. Randolph shows. Mr. Webster 
kept no copy of his reply to the challenge. 

On one occasion, his public life and principles had 
been severely handled by an ardent politician in 
the Senate. The attack lasted for some two hours. 
Mr. Webster seemed, in the mean time, to be writ- 
ing at his desk, taking notes and preparing for a 
reply. After the gentleman had closed his remarks, 
Mr. Webster rose with great deliberation and dig- 
nity. All eyes were turned towards him. After a 
telling silence, he began : — 

"Mr. President, if the Senator who has just 
taken his seat is not too much fatigued, I move 
that the Senate do now go into an executive 
session." 

He made no other reply. 

One of the most graceful and courtly passages 
in intellectual jousting, which the history of leg- 
islation records, is found among the last words of 
debate which passed between the two great cham- 
pions in the contest between the Federal Govern- 
ment and South Carolina. Mr. Calhoun ro.'^e to 

22 



338 EEMINISCENCES OE DANIEL WEBSTER. 

explain some langnnge of his on which Mr. Web- 
ster had been commenting. 

" That explanation," said Mr. Webster, " brings 
us back upon the old field of controversy where 
we have already broken many a lance. I am not 
disposed to measure weapons again with the Sena 
tor from South Carolina." 

" Nor I," replied Mr. Calhoun, " with the Senator 
from Massachusetts." 

Among the many instances of Mr. Webster's 
thorough kindness of heart, the following may be 
related : — 

Many years ago, a man by the name of Joshua 
Bean, a classmate of Mr. Webster at Dartmouth, 
lived in Boston. His wife kept a straw-bonnet 
shop in Newbury (now Washington) Street, next 
door to the corner of Winter Street, and contrived 
to support herself, her husband, an aged mother, 
and one child. Mr. Bean, though college-taught 
and a very pohte and kind-hearted man, had no 
faculty for business of any kind, and had failed 
previous to his removing to Boston from the coun- 
try. His creditors several times attached the little 
stock in trust of his wife, and poor Bean, in such 
emergencies, always went to Mr. Webster for aid ; 
and the distinguished lawyer and generous-hearted 
man, as often as he came, took up his case and 
went into court and cleared him. Mr. Bean often 
told of this assistance with grateful pride, and of 
Mr. Webster's refusal to receive any pecuniary 
reward for his services. 

A young man, son of an humble mechanic of 



PERSONAL TRAITS 33S 

Boston, desirous of admission to West Point Mili- 
tary Academy, but having no friends to aid him in 
a cause requiring very influential agency, once went 
into Mr. Webster's office in Court Street, in Boston, 
introduced himself, and solicited that his name 
might be proposed. Mr. Webster interested him- 
self in the matter, and obtained the appointment. 
The young man rewarded his generous confidence 
by diligent study and good conduct ; stood with 
the first four in his class through the whole course, 
graduated with honor, received an appointment, 
and afterwards withdrew from the service to act 
as civil engineer. 

Mr. Webster, on one occasion, went down to 
Dennis, Cape Cod, to recreate himself with gunning 
and fishing, and stopped over night at a public 
house. Rising very early the next morning, in 
his rambles he met with a retired sea-captain, and 
asked him if he knew of a place where he could 
get boarded. The captain replied by directing 
him to the tavern. Mr. Webster rejoined that he 
already boarded there, but wanted a more retired 
place. The captain told him that he did not him- 
self take boarders, but he might come and get 
breakfast with him, and take such fare as they 
had. They went home together, became better 
acquainted, and the result was that Mr. Webster 
became a boarder in the captain's family, to their 
mutual satisfaction, — he liking the terms of socia- 
bihty on which they stood, the table and lodgings, 
tlie intelligence of his landlord, who had been a 
merchant captain and Avas full of information about 



340 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

foreign cities; and they admiring Mr. Webster's 
good nature and condescension and endless fund of 
entertainment. A few months afterwards, a va- 
cancy occurring for a hghthouse-keeper near by, 
the distinguished boarder procured it for the cap- 
tain, he having intimated that he should like such 
an appointment to help along his livelihood on the 
shore. 

Mr. Webster's pastor at Marshfield, soon after 
the statesman's death, wrote as follows of his 
neighborly kindness and generosity : — 

" Mr. Webster was a remarkably kind neighbor. 
He was free to lend any thing that he had upon 
his mammoth farm, that would be useful to his 
neighbors. Though he was at so much expense 
to introduce improvements upon his farm, he was 
desirous that the neighboring farmers should reap 
all the benefit they could from them. If he had 
any thing particularly nice or rare to eat, he did 
not forget to send portions to the poor and to his 
neighbors. 

" As his parish minister for years, the writer can 
say that Mr. Webster was uncommonly kind and 
generous to him. Scarcely did I ever make a pas- 
toral call upon him (and Mr. Webster was very 
fond of having his minister come to see him at 
any time, and frequently without ceremony), but 
what he was ready to impart golden stores from 
his lips to encourage and instruct ; and also would 
order fruit or vegetables, or something useful for 
my family, to be put into my carriage to take 
home. 



PERSONAL TRAITS. -^41 

" Another mark of Mr. Webster's thoiightf ulness, 
justice, and generosity may be mentioned here : 
that, amon^ir the last acts of his hfe. he ordered that 
the parish at Marshfield should be settled with and 
paid all that was its due ; and he made a handsome 
present beyond his tax and subscriptions. Both 
minister and parish remember this noble act, and 
will not cease to mourn the loss of their best friend 
and parishioner, Daniel Webster." 

During the winter of 1845, Mr. Webster and 
Mr. Edward Curtis took the cars together for 
Washington. Mr. Webster was quite ill, and felt 
the need of repose. As the cars when they en- 
tered were not very much crowded, Mr. Webster 
turned over the back of one of the seats, and, 
wrapping his feet in a shawl, placed them on the 
seat before him and addressed himself to a little 
quiet slumber. Meanwhile his friend sat on the 
seat in front of him. The cars gradually filled up, 
and all the seats were occupied. At this moment 
a stranger entered, looking about for a seat ; and 
seeing these four places occupied by two gentle- 
men, he approached, and with the air of a traveller 
resolved to assert his rights, requested them to make 
room for him. Mr. Webster was already asleep, and 
un3onscious that anybody was incommoded by his 
rest. Mr. Curtis informed the stranger that his friend 
was ill, and greatly needed repose ; and begged of 
him to find a seat in another car, or at least to wait 
till his fellow-traveller had ended his nap. The 
stranger would not listen to this proposal ; he had 
paid for his ticket, he said, and had a right to any 



342 EEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

vacant seat in the car. Mr. Curtis was loatli to 
disturb Mr. Webster, and still remonstrated, admit- 
ting that in ordinary cases the stranger had reason 
on his side, but in the present instance he thought 
he ought to yield his claim. The loud conversation 
aroused the sleeper ; and, learning the point in 
dispute, Mr. Webster said : — 

" If I incommode any one, I will make room for 
him." 

He at once gave the stranger a seat, and very 
soon fell asleep again. Presently the conductor 
came along to take the tickets. He at once 
recognized Mr. Webster, who had a free pass on 
all the roads. North and South, except the Balti- 
more and Washington road, and the Old Colony 
road. The conductor inquired of Mr. Curtis in a 
subdued tone about Mr. Webster's health. Mr. 
Curtis told him that Mr. Webster was not well, 
and greatly needed rest ; but his duties at Wash- 
ington were pressing, and he was obliged to take 
the cars, though his health required the attention 
of a physician and a nurse. 

The conductor said that he would presently 
make arrangements in one of the saloons for Mr. 
Webster, where he would be more at his ease. 

After the conductor had passed on, the stranger 
spoke to Mr. Curtis with evident anxiety about 
their recent conversation. 

" Allow me," said he, " to inquire if this gentle- 
man by my side is Senator Webster." 

" Yes, sir," replied Mr. Curtis, " that is Mi\ 
Webster." 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 343 

" Is it possible ? " said the stranger. " IIow un- 
fortunate I am ! What a blunder I have made ! 
I am very sorry for my apparent discourtesy ; 
it was quite unintentional. I must ask your kind 
offices to explain the matter to Mr. Webster. Sir, 
I am an Englishman ; I have come to this country 
on important business; I have just arrived at New 
York, and am now on my way to Washington to 
secure advice respecting my affairs. I have letters 
to Mr. Webster from his friends in Eno-land. The 
chief object of my present journey to the Capital 
is to see him. I hope you will explain all this to 
Mr. Webster, as he will certainly recognize me 
as the intrusive stranger who annoyed him upon 
the road. I would not for the world have dis- 
turbed him, had I known his real character and 
the delicate condition of his health." 

Mr. Curtis assured him that Mr. Webster would 
take no offence, and that he might be entirely at 
rest on that point. When the facts were related 
to Mr. Webster, he only smiled at the stranger's 
anxiety, and observed that the slight interruption 
of his sleep had quite escaped his memory. 

Mr. Webster had many enthusiastic admirers, 
who never saw his face, and whose only knowledge 
of him was derived from his speeches. Men who 
have thus learned lessons of wisdom from the pages 
where his words, so fitly spoken, were printed, 
have often manifested an intense anxiety to see 
the orator, to gaze upon his form and face, to 
watch his movements and gait, and to listen with 
eager curiosity to stories of his social and domestic 



344 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

life. I made one of my visits to Washington in 
1846. Mr. Webster preceded me on the road by 
a single day. I took the boat from Philadelphia to 
Baltimore, where I accidentally met a gentleman 
who was on his way to Washington. We entered 
into conversation. He said : — 

"I am from Kentucky, and have just been North 
for the first time in my life. Yesterday, much to 
my gratification, I had a sight of Mr. Webster. We 
passed each other on the steps of the Astor House. 
I had seen descriptions of his person, and had formed 
in my mind an idea of the man. I knew him the mo- 
ment my eyes fell upon him, for I felt certain there 
could be but one man in the country who could 
present such a figure, face, and eyes. I inquired 
at the bar if Daniel Webster was stopping at that 
house. I was told that he had just left for Wash- 
ington. 1 at once followed his carriage to the de- 
pot to see him alight, and to have an opportunity 
of observing him more accurately. I regretted that 
I could not leave in the same train which he took, 
and resolved to see more of him at Washington." 

This gentleman was perfectly enthusiastic about 
Mr. Webster. He talked of nothing else while we 
were together. On our arrival at the city, he went 
to Willard's Hotel, and I to Mr. Webster's house. 
He gave me his name, and requested me to call on 
him at his lodo-inacs. Goino; to church the next 
day, Mr. Webster said : — 

" Corwin is in the city, and will take a quiet 
dinner with me. Have you any friend whom you 
would like to invite to occupy a seat with us ? " 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 345 

1 mentioned my new acquaintance, and remarked 
that he told me he knew Mr. Corwin. " I will send 
a note to Corwin," said Mr. Webster, " and ask him 
about your friend." 

He wrote with a pencil on a card, " Do you know 
C. A., of Kentucky ? " 

The servant took the card to Mr. Corwin, while 
we waited in the street, and brought back the fol- 
lowing reply : — 

" I know him well, and a glorious good fellow he 
is, too." 

I thereupon invited Mr. A. to dine at Mr. Web- 
ster's. He came in full dress, and seemed delighted 
with the invitation. Mr. Webster was in one of his 
happiest moods. He talked, in monologue, for sev- 
eral hours on topics appropriate to the day ; the 
Sabbath services which we had just attended; 
the Bible, its poetry, sublimity, and pathos ; con- 
trasting the Hebrew lyrics with the Odes of Anac- 
reon and Horace ; quoting passages from the book 
of Job and the prophets, and pointing out their 
infinite superiority to Homer and Virgil. The 
stranger was completely fascinated, and forgot 
the hasty flight of the hours. At ten o'clock we 
took our leave. I w^ent with Mr. A. to his hotel. 
After we passed out of Mr. Webster's house, he 
threw up his hands and shouted for very gladness. 

" That exceeds all that I have ever heard," said 
he. " I always thought Mr. Webster had the great- 
est intellect of the age, and have read and studied 
every speech he has made. But while I supposed 
he stood in unapproachable grandeur as an orator. 



34G REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

[ thought him cold. I supposed he had no soul ; 
that his manners were forbidding and repulsive. 
But I see my mistake. He excels more in genial 
conversation than in oratory. His heart is as great 
as his head. If every citizen in the United States 
could have enjoyed that interview to-day, Webster 
would be chosen President by acclamation." 

One of Mr. Webster's most prominent traits was 
his fondness for old familiar scenes, and his kindly 
and retentive memory of old acquaintances and 
friends. In the summer of 1845 I went with him 
to Rye Beach. He said he wished to see the 
ocean from the point where he first saw it in his 
hfe. 

" I saw the ocean for the first time that I remem- 
ber," he said, " from Rye Beach. I was then a boy, 
at Exeter Academy. I walked with another lad 
from Exeter to Rye Beach, ten miles, and arrived 
just before the sun was setting. I remember dis- 
tinctly the impression made upon me at that time, 
— a sensation such as has never since come to me, 
much as I have looked at, and love to look at, the 
sea. I never have seen Rye Beach from that day 
to this, and I want to see if it looks as it did 
then." 

We went down there, and among other places 
visited Exeter and Little Harbor ; and then he 
gave me an account of the Wentworths. Old 
Governor Benning Wentworth was the elder, and 
John was his nephew. They held their offices 
under the Crown, and made Little Harbor their 
place of residence. The old family mansion stands 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 347 

there now, and it has the aspect of a sort of a for- 
tified place. 

This old Benning Wentworth was an aristocrat, 
and John was an ambitious and roguish fellow who 
was fond of racing horses. His uncle was rather 
hard upon him, and finally John went home to 
England. There he attended races the greater 
part of his time. The Earl of AVentworth, with 
whom he was connected, was a peer and statesman 
in England, and a great sportsman. John Went- 
worth went to the races, and bet heavily on the 
Earl of Wentworth's horses. Without knowino; 
any thing of their quality, he bet on the Earl's 
horses wherever they ran. The Earl heard of it, 
and asked who this young fellow was ? The reply 
was that he was from America, bore the name of 
Wentworth, and was the nejDhew of the Colonial 
Governor of New Hampshire. 

" Well," said the Earl, " bring him to me." 
The Earl liked John so well, that he took him 
to his house, and made a favorite of him. The 
result of it was that the governorship was taken 
from the uncle and given to John. A great sensa- 
tion was created at the time by the change. The 
two lived in the old mansion at Little Harbor ; 
and in it were many family portraits and much 
plate well worth seeing. A visit to it brought 
up many reminiscences to Mr. Webster. The per- 
son then occupying it was a Mr. Gushing, who 
married a daughter of Jacob Sheafe, he being one 
of the wealthy and influential men of that name 
and family in Portsmouth, when Mr. Webster was 



S48 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

a young man practising law there. This daugh- 
ter was then a young lady, and had not seen Mr. 
Webster for more than thirty years. She was 
now a matron, and resided on the Wentworth 
estate. On the morning that we were there she 
was away from home, shopping in Portsmouth. 
Ths servant gave us permission to look about the 
house as we waited, and we examined with con- 
siderable interest the family portraits which hung 
about the walls. In one of the rooms was a portrait 
of Jacob Sheaf e. Mr. Webster said : " That is an 
excellent likeness of old Jacob Sheafe, at whose 
table I often used to dine when I was in Ports- 
mouth." When Mrs. Gushing returned, she did not 
recognize Mr. Webster ; and she looked a little sur- 
prised to see strangers there. She evidently had 
not the most remote suspicion who her guest was ; 
but Mr. Webster said : — 

"Don't you know me, madam? I have taken 
the liberty to come in on account of old acquain- 
tance." 

" I am very happy to see you," she replied ; but 
in a way which showed that she was still in the 
dark as to who he was. 

Mr. Webster then observed : — 

" I presume you don't recollect me, but I recol- 
lect you. I have often dined at your father's table 
when I was a resident of Portsmouth, — then a 
much younger man, as you were a younger woman. 
Would not you remember Daniel Webster ? " 

'^ This is not Daniel Webster ? " said she, in 
surprise. 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 349 

*' It is, what is left of me," replied he. 

She took his hand most warmly ; said she was 
much honored ; and, her feelings overcoming her, 
she wept freely. She gave us a lunch ; and, as we 
sat about the table, reminiscences of past events 
gave rise to considerable conversation. 

" Mrs. Gushing," said Mr. Webster, " when I was 
in Paris, in 1842, at the French court, one of the 
first questions asked me by Louis Philippe, in 
speaking of friends made by him while in exile 
in America, was of Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Sheaf e. 
He told me that he was a guest of your parents 
when he was friendless and penniless in this coun- 
try. There, in that humble family, he found hos- 
pitality and kindness. I told him they had long 
been dead. After some further conversation, he 
told this anecdote of your mother. He said 
that, on one occasion, at a dinner where there 
were numerous guests beside himself, there was 
on the table for dessert a large, rich, and rare 
pineapple, — that being then an uncommon lux- 
ury. He said it was near him ; and as he was a 
sort of a member of the family, having been do- 
mesticated with them for some time, he began to 
cut this pine. Mrs. Sheafe caught sight of him, 
and cried out : ' Lord, Prince, don't cut that ! 
We did not intend to have it cut ; it was only put 
on for an ornament ! ' The King of France told 
me that anecdote of your mother, at the same 
time telling me of the hospitality and kindness 
which he received from both your parents, and of 
the simpHcity and honesty which marked their 



350 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

manners. He said he never found more true and 
hospitable friends than old Mr. and Mrs. Jacob 
Sheafe, of Portsmouth." 

Mr. Webster's personal courage is well illustrated 
by the following anecdote. During the violent 
party excitements of 1812, about the time of the 
declaration of war against England, the press of 
Mr. Hanson — the proprietor of the " Federal 
Republican," at Baltimore — was destroyed by 
a mob. On the revival of the paper in another 
building, the premises were again assaulted, and 
the mob was fired upon by Mr. Hanson, General 
Henry Lee, of the Revolutionary army (father 
of General R. E. Lee), General Lingan, another 
Revolutionary officer. Dr. Warfield, an intimate 
friend of Washington, and other Federal gentle- 
men, who had assembled as volunteers to protect 
the doomed press. The mob numbered two thou- 
sand, and the city authorities advised the besieged 
party to surrender their arms and to allow them- 
selves to be locked up in the city jail, to secure their 
personal safety. They consented to be so treated, 
though they were assailed by missiles while under 
the escort of the mayor to the jail. During the 
afternoon of the same day, the mob again assem- 
bled about the jail, threatening the lives of those 
within. They soon broke open the doors and cells 
of the prison, and proceeded to beat the men who 
had been there secluded to save them from violence. 
The mob was led by an athletic butcher, named 
John Mumma. General Lingan was killed by him 
on the spot. General Lee was wounded, so that 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 351 

he became a cripple for life, and died six years- 
later of his injuries; and several of the other 
gentlemen were left for dead near the jail who 
afterwards revived. The scene was terrific, and 
the leaders of the mob were regarded as monsters 
of cruelty. The name of John Mumma became 
notorious throughout the country ; and to those 
who met him his ferocious aspect revealed his 
brutal character. 

Some months after this occurrence, Mr. Webster 
and a party of friends, being on their way to Wash- 
ington, were delayed by the breaking down of the 
coach some fifteen miles north of Baltimore. It 
was evening. The driver had no means at hand 
of repairing the coach ; he therefore returned with 
the horses to the last station, to procure another 
carriage. Some of the passengers went with him ; 
others took shelter in the nearest houses. Mr. 
Webster, who was in great haste to reach Wash- 
ington to attend a trial before the Supreme Court, 
resolved to push on to the nearest village, some 
three miles ahead, and procure a private convey- 
ance to Baltimore that night. He at last reached 
the tavern of that village, and was ushered by 
the landlord into a small room which opened into 
the bar-room, which was crowded with people 
engaged in loud and angry discussion. Supper 
was ordered ; and while it was preparing Mr. 
Webster sent for the landlord, to find out whether 
he could procure a chaise and driver to take him 
to Baltimore. He told the innkeeper who he was, 
and whv he was in haste. The man made some 



o52 REMINISCENCES OP DANIEL WEBSTER. 

objection on account of the darkness of the night 
and the lateness of the hour ; but finally said that 
he would try to accommodate him. He went oft', 
and soon returned to say that he had found a man 
who was willing to take him to Baltimore. As the 
landlord passed in and out, Mr. Webster watched 
the movements and character of the men in the 
bar-room. He noticed that their leading speaker 
was a tall, muscular man, of rather fierce and tru- 
culent aspect, who seemed to take the lead of the 
conversation and to be the oracle of the crowd. 
Mr. Webster asked the maid-servant in attendance 
at his supper-table who that man was. 

" Why," said she, with great simplicity, " don't 
you know him ? That's John Mumma, the butcher." 

Mr. Webster then recollected Mumma's share in 
the Baltimore riots, but gave himself no further 
thought about the man. As soon as his hunger 
was appeased, he notified the landlord that he de- 
sired to set out for the city forthwith. The chaise 
was immediately driven to the door, and Mr. Web- 
ster discovered, by the light of the landlord's 
lantern, that the identical leader of the mob, John 
Mumma, was to be his driver. It occurred to him 
at that moment, as he afterwards said, that, as this 
man had butchered General Lingan for being a 
Federalist, he might deem it an act of patriotism 
to dispatch Mr. Webster also. There was no time 
for deliberation, however ; he had proceeded too 
far to recede. Said he : — 

" 1 felt young and strong, and thought that no 
man could easily put me under the wheel." 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 353 

The crowd, having learned the name of the 
stranger, huddled round the chaise to get a look 
at his face. Mr. Webster sprang into the vehicle, 
followed by his companion. The two drove for 
three or four miles at a rapid pace, without ex- 
changing a word. At length, after entering a 
dense grove, Mumma drew in his horse and came 
to a dead halt. Turning to his companion, he 
said : — 

" Are you Daniel Webster ? " 

" That is my name," replied Mr. Webster. 

" Do you know who I am ? " said the driver. 

" I do," was the reply. " You are John Mum- 
ma, the butcher." 

" You know me, then," he resumed ; " and are 
you not afraid to drive over this road alone with 
me in the night? " 

" Not in the least," said Mr. Webster. " Why 
should I fear you ? " 

'• I don't know," said the murderer ; " but I 
think there is not another Federalist in the coun- 
try who would say as much. I am glad to see 
you," he added, " and to free my mind about those 
Baltimore riots. We who attacked the jail had no 
ill-will against General Lingan, General Lee, and 
the other men shut up there. We were misled by 
others. We were told, out in the country, that 
the Republic was to be ruined and betrayed to the 
enemy by traitors ; that a nest of them had a press 
in Baltimore, and were every week publishing 
their treason to the world, and plotting the ruin 
of the nation. We thought it would be a good 

23 



354 



REJOXISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 



deed to destroy them. "We went to tlie city under 
this impression. When the crowd assembled, all 
seemed crazy with excitement, and we thought we 
were doing the best thing we could for our coun- 
try in attacking those men as we did." 

Mumma's story was long and minute, and when 
it was finished they had reached Barnum's Hotel, 
in Baltimore. Mr. Webster alighted in safety ; and 
when he offered the stipulated fee to Mumma, he 
refused to take it, saying that he was glad of a 
chance to explain the part he took in the Balti- 
more riots to one of the injured party ; and, wheel- 
ing round his chaise, he rattled away over the 
pavements on his w^ay home. 



CHAPTER X. 

PERSONAL TRAITS. — Continued. 

Mr. Webster's sense of humor was keen and 
easily provoked. He saw the ludicrous side of 
things, and was quick to seize upon it and make 
the most of it. Some anecdotes may be related 
which serve to exhibit how largely this trait was 
developed in him. 

Fletcher and I once went to New York to meet 
Mr. Webster ; and in the cars I saw for the first 
time one of those lanterns that have since become 
so common, through which the conductor puts his 
arm, beneath the light, and with which he is thus 
enabled to use both hands while holding his own 
hght. I happened to think of this a few days after, 
while we were all at dinner in New York, and I 
described the lantern to Mr. Webster. He saw at 
once what it was, and said : — 

*•' What a grand thing that is ! Is it not surpris- 
ing that it was not invented before ? Fletcher, 
order two or three of those, and send them down to 
Marshfield. They will be very convenient for the 
man to use about the barn, when he is called on to 
harness the horses in the night, and so on. Get 
two or three of them to send to Marshfield." 



356 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 



He turned to me with rather a significant look, 
and added : — 

" What might a man be said to be doing, if he 
went into battle with one of those lanterns ? " 

" Give it up," said I. 

" Fighting with light arms ! " 

We laughed, and there was a call from the other 
end of the table to know what the joke was. This 
was just after Mr. Webster had delivered his ad- 
dress before the New York Historical Society, in 
which he had spoken of the lost books of Livy ; 
and to the call for the joke at which we had been 
laughing, he replied : — 

" No ; it is gone. It is like the lost books of 
Livy, it can never be brought to light again, — 
it 's too late ! " 

One day I was present at a gathering at a 
gentleman's house in Boston, and stood leaning 
against the mantel, engaged in conversation with 
another person. I was commenting on one of 
those hideous-looking, white-cravated engravings 
of Mr. Webster which was in the room. He was 
to be present, but had not been announced. As 
we stood there talking, I turned about, and there 
was Mr. Webster. 

'' Ah ! " said I, " we were commenting on this 
picture, and it does not please us. How does it 
strike you ? " 

" The last time that I went up to New Hamp- 
shire," he rcpUed, '^ before the railroad was built 
above Concord, I rode in a stage, with but one 



other passenger, an old gentleman. T asked him 



% 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 357 

wliere he was from, and he said, ' Salisbury.' Then 
I was interested, and tried to find out his name. 

"' ' Did you know Mr. Webster ? ' I said. 

" ' Old Captain Eb. Webster ? I guess 1 did. 
1 knew him and all his family. They were my 
neighbors and friends ; and a nice old man he 
was.' 

" ' Did you know him intimately ? ' 

" ' Very intimately. He had a son who was a 
very extraordinary man. Ezekiel Webster was 
a son of Captain Webster, and was the greatest 
man New Hampshire ever raised. I was in the 
Concord court-house, where I was a juryman at 
the trial, when he fell dead. He was arguing a 
case very eloquently, when he suddenly fell to 
the floor. It made much excitement among the 
people. He was a great man, and there is nobody 
left like him. He was a powerful, noble-looking 
person. We were all proud of Ezekiel Webster ; 
very proud of him. We should have sent him to 
Congress, if he had lived.' 

" ' Had Captain Webster any other children ? ' 

" ' There were one or two girls, but they died 
young, I believe ; and there were one or two other 
sons.' 

" ' Do you remember any thing about any of 
Ezekiel's brothers ? ' 

" ' He had a brother, I think, — a younger 
brother.' 

" ' What was his name ? ' 

" ' Let me see. Oh, yes ; I think his name was 
Daniel.' 



OK 



58 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

" ' Did you ever see him ? ' 

" ' I used to see him when he was a boy/ 

" ^ Did you know him at all ? ' 

" * Oh, yes, very well.' 

" ' Well, is he living ? ' 

" * Well, I guess he is : I never heard of hia 
dying. I never thought any thing about it ; but 
I believe he is a lawyer down about Boston some- 
where.' 

" ' Do you remember what kind of a looking lad 
he was ? ' 

" ' Well, so far as I remember, he was rather a 
starn-\ook.mg young man.' 

" And," said Mr. Webster, " this is rather a 
* starn ' looking portrait ! Such is fame." 

On one occasion, in a Massachusetts court, Mr. 
Webster and Mr. Choate were observed frequently 
interchanging notes. The spectators supposed, of 
course, that it was the discussion of some legal 
question. It turned out, however, that they weie 
sending to each other quotations from the English 
poets. Finally, Mr. Webster sent an extract from 
Cowper, which Mr. Choate corrected and returned, 
intimating that there had been a misquotation. 
Mr. Webster repeated his first version, and claimed 
that it was right. A messenger was sent for 
Cowper's " Task ; " the place was found, and Mr. 
Webster saw that the sentiment was as Mr. Choate 
had corrected it. He smiled, and wrote with a pen- 
cil upon the margin of the page containing the 
disputed passage, " A spurious edition ; " and so, 
like a judicious critic, retreated wath honor. 



i 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 359 

Mr. Webster used to tell the following story. 
He once had occasion to attend court at Haverhill, 
in New Hampshire, after his removal to Boston. 
Amono; other earlv friends, he there met an old col- 
lege chum named Grant, who was a member of the 
Grafton bar at that time. At the hotel where the 
lawyers chiefly boarded, there was a good deal of 
mirth and fun during the evenings. As various 
parties were joking each other, Mr. Webster drew 
a bow at a venture, and in one or two instances 
made a decided hit. He proceeded, as he said, to 
" call out " Mr. Grant, who was regarded as rather 
a dull wit. As Mr. Grant had for the moment 
become the target of their sharpshooting, Mr. Web- 
ster went on to say : — 

" The first time I ever met Grant was in Hano- 
ver, when I was about to enter college. Grant had 
just taken a ride on horseback, having hired a 
horse of one man and borrowed a saddle and bri- 
dle of another. He had turned the horse into 
a pasture, and, with the bridle over his head and 
the saddle upon his back, was returning to his 
room ; and I thought the harness became him 
weU." 

After the merriment had subsided, Grant re- 
plied : — 

" I remember the circumstance well. I was 
returning home just as the sun was setting, and 
feeling the chill of an unusually dark shadow fall- 
ing upon my face, I turned to see who was passing. 
I noticed a tall, swarthy native, as I supposed, with 
straight hair and black eyes, who at once inquired 



360 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

if I could direct him to Moor's Indian Charity 
School." 

This happy retort was enjoyed by none more 
than by Mr. Webster, and he never forgot the 
incident. He used to say that this same Grant 
was quite an original in college. Grant found, at 
one time, a charge upon his term-bill for the use 
of the library. He called on President Wheelock, 
and protested against the injustice of the charge, 
as he had never taken out a single book. The 
President replied that the charge was made to every 
student, presuming that all would choose to avail 
themselves of the privilege of taking out books ; 
that if he had neglected to do so, the fault was his 
own, as the library had been open, and he might 
have taken such books as he wished. Grant paid 
the bill. 

At the close of the next term he brought in an 
offset to the hbrary fee, in this wise. Grant kept 
in his room certain articles for sale, such as cake 
and beer, by which he turned an honest penny. 
He presented to the President a charge for cake 
and beer. The astonished officer inquired what 
this meant, as he had received no such articles. 
Grant replied that he kept them for sale ; that his 
room was open ; and, if any college officer did not 
avail himself of the privilege, it was his own 
fault ! 

Mr. Webster always preferred to do the carving 
at his own table, and in this art he was very skilful. 
When no distinguished guests were present, the 
dinner hour was usually enUvened by a little quiet 



II 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 3G1 

humor, by quaint allusions to well-known events, or 
by the use of peculiar terms used in other parts of 
the country, but not always understood by those 
present. Besides his own family, some young 
friends, employes or agents, usually sat at his table 
at Marshfield. On such occasions, after helping 
the ladies, he would turn to some one of the young 
men present, and with great solemnity ask : — 

" Is your name Leathers ? " 

By this, the person addressed understood him to 
ask if he would be helped to a portion of the dish. 
The origin of this singular form of address was 
this. Many years ago, a tribe of gypsies were 
living in New Hampshire, principally in Barring- 
ton and the adjacent towns. They made excur- 
sions all over the State, selling baskets and begging ; 
indeed, begging was their principal vocation. A 
remnant of the tribe still exists, and some of their 
descendants have come to honor. On one occasion, 
a member of this mendicant tribe had an opportu- 
nity to do a personal favor to a rich trader in Bosca- 
wen named Dix, who, in requital for that kindness, 
gave out word that he would present to every man 
bearing the name of Leathers (which was the name 
of his benefactor), who should call at his store on a 
certain day, a pound of tobacco and a pint of rum. 
On the day appointed, the Leatherses mustered in 
great force, and proved to be a much more numer- 
ous body than he had expected to meet. After 
distributing his donation to the well-known indi- 
viduals of the tribe, he became suspicious that 
many of the remaining crowd had no claims upon 



362 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

his generosity by reason of any relationship to the 
Leathers race. As fresh apphcants for his bounty 
came \ip, he addressed to each in turn the signifi- 
cant question : — 

" Is your name Leathers ? " 

If the appUcant succeeded in proving that it was, 
he received the coveted boon. This story being 
blazed abroad, the question afterwards became a 
by-word in that part of the State. Mr. Webster 
used it to put his sons and young guests in good 
humor, and remove the stiffness which sometimes 
arises from the presence of superiors. Sometimes 
he merely indicated his query by an inquisitive 
look, turned fully on the expectant guest ; and, if 
he were a frequent visitor at Marshfield, he often 
replied before a word was uttered, " Yes, my name 
is Leathers." 

Mr. Ruggles, of New York, once asked Mr. Web- 
ster if he had seen the junction of the Missouri 
and the Mississippi. Mr. Webster rephed : — 

" There is no junction. The Missouri seizes the 
Mississippi, and carries it captive to New Orleans." 

On another occasion, when Mr. Ruggles was urg- 
ing upon Mr. Webster the importance of the Mis- 
sissippi as an indissoluble bond of national union, 
he spoke of it as " the great fact of this country." 
Mr. Webster, after a short pause, replied : — 

" Sir, it may be a great fact ; but let me tell 
you, the great chain of lakes is a very broad 
hint ! " 

Mr. Webster, talking one day to John Trout, said: 
** John, you are an amphibious animal." John, 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 363 

who by the way was well known for drawing an 
exceedingly long bow, asked what that meant. 

" It means, John," returned Mr. Webster, " an 
animal that lies equally well on land and on water ! " 

Dr. Danforth was a celebrated physician, but 
a most intolerably harsh man. Many of the best 
families employed him, on account of his great 
skill. He had an only son who was also a physi- 
cian, and who inherited many of his father's traits. 
They had a bitter quarrel at one time, and had not 
spoken to one another for several years. The son, 
who lived in Dorchester, committed suicide. At 
the funeral, the house was crowded with the family 
and friends ; and a very near neighbor of the young 
doctor, Mr. T. K. Jones, was present. The weather 
was warm, and as the old doctor sat near Mr. Jones, 
he said : — 

" It 's a warm day Mr. Jones." 

The latter being a little deaf, said : — 

" What did you remark ? " 

" It *s a warm day," was the reply. 

People started a little, to hear that commonplace 
remark at such a solemn moment ; and Mr. Jones, 
hearing but partially, and thinking he must be mis- 
taken in what he did hear, leaned forward, and said 
in an under-tone : — 

" I am very deaf, and did not understand you." 

" I said it was as hot as hell ; do you hear that ? " 

Every hot day after that, Mr. Webster used to 
speak of it as " one of Dr. Danforth's days." 

In 1850, soon after the passage of the Com- 
nromise bill, John Barney, of Baltimore, invited 



364 REMINISCENCES OF D.VNIEL WEBSTER. 

about thirty Senators and Representatives to dine 
at a restaurant on Pennsylvania Avenue, in Wash- 
ington. He had places set for only ten or twelve ; 
but, to his surprise, the whole thirty came ; and, to 
add to his discomfiture, the night happened to be a 
disagreeable one. Among others present was Mr 
Webster, then Secretary of State. Never were to be 
set down to a dinner a crosser or a hungrier com- 
pany of men ; and when at nine o'clock the thirty 
found places for only ten or twelve to sit at the 
table, there was a loud roar of laughter. Merri- 
ment took the place of anger. Cabinet ministers 
stood up and waited on foreign ministers, and U. S. 
senators, in great glee, discharged the duties of 
Scipio and Sambo. A few glasses of champagne 
let loose the tongues of all " honorable " gentle- 
men, and the dinner was long and pleasant, and 
never was a happier evening passed than was 
this. 

The incident of the evening, or night rather, was 
between Mr. Webster and Mr. Foote, then Senator 
for Mississippi. The dinner was ostensibly given 
to Senator Foote, who was also the governor-elect 
of Mississippi, and on the eve of leaving Washing- 
ton to assume his gubernatorial duties at Jackson. 
Mr. Webster was commissioned to deliver an address 
to the new Governor Foote. The orator took the 
head of the table, and began a speech in rhyme, 
with sparkles of pure poetry in it, that bubbled up 
and out as if from a Milton or a Byron ; and the 
common rhyme and sparkling poetry nm on from ' 
him, it may be a full half hour, it may be more. 



PERSONAI. TRAITS. 365 

Here was Daniel Webster in a new character, — a 
rhyme builder, a poet. Everybody was astonished 
and delighted. The plaudits were vociferous ; and 
Mr. Webster would seize hold of them, and other 
temporary incidents, and weave them into his 
rhyme. 

A pleasant instance of his kindly playfulness is 
afforded by the following graceful letter. It was 
addressed to a young lady who had been spending 
a social evening at Mr. Webster's house, and on 
account of the rain had substituted a borrowed 
hood for her own bonnet ; and the note in question 
was delivered with the bonnet, at the residence of 
the lady, by Mr. Webster, while driving to his office 
the next morning : — 

Monday Morning, March 4, 1844. 

My dear Josephine, — I fear you got a wetting last 
evening, as it rained fast soon after you left our door ; and 
I avail myself of the return of your bonnet to express the 
wish that you are well this morning, and without cold. 

I have demanded parlance with your bonnet ; have asked 
it how many tender looks it has noticed to be directed under 
it ; what soft words it has heard, close to its side ; in what 
instances an air of triumph has caused it to be tossed ; and 
whether, ever, and when, it has quivered fi'om trembling 
emotions proceeding from below. But it has proved itself 
a faithful keeper of secrets, and would answer none of my 
questions. It only remained for me to attempt to surprise 
it into confession, by pronouncing sundry names one after 
another. It seemed quite unmoved by most of these, but 
at the apparently unexpected mention of one, I thought its 
ribbands decidedly fluttered ! 

I gave it my parting good wishes, hoping that it might 
never cover an aching head, and that the eyes which it 



366 EEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

protects from the rays of the sun, may know no tears but 
of joy and affection. 

Yours, dear Josephine, with affectionate regard, 

Daniel Webster. 

Of Mr. Webster's daily habits, when free from 
all restraints of company, I think I may say with- 
out egotism that I know as much as any man ; for 
I was with him a great deal, and of course my 
presence imposed no restraint upon him. He was 
temperate. He would sometimes take with his 
dinner a glass of wine or two, but was not in the 
habit of drinking at other times. He was very 
regular in the hours of his meals. He rose (par- 
ticularly at Marshfield) at four o'clock. He told 
me once that he never let the sun get the start of 
him ; and I have myself heard him up and talking 
to the men in the field, in the summer, when I have 
been trying to catch a nap ; and then perhaps 
afterwards he would come up into my room and 
pull the clothes off my bed, and go through the 
house, to his sons' room and others, and do the 
same thing. His habit was to rise in the morning 
at light, go to the little office in his garden, and be- 
gin his correspondence. If he had no secretary with 
him, he would write himself ; if he had, he would 
dictate : so that sometimes you saw, when break- 
fast was announced, twenty letters, all franked and 
sealed and ready to go to the office. 

" Now," he would say, " my day's work is done ; 
I have nothing to do but fish." 

He had an instinctive sense of propriety in dress 
as well as language. He discriminated colors as 



1 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 8G7 

accurately as thoughts, and wished to see both in 
their appropriate places. He was particular about 
the style and quality of his own apparel, and al- 
ways appeared dressed to suit the occasion and the 
company. Seeing his little granddaughters dressed 
in white, he commended the taste that made the 
selection, observing that children should wear hght 
and simple colors, like the flowers of early spring. 

" In later life," he said, " we require gayer col- 
ors. In this respect we follow Nature, which 
brings out its brightest colors at the close of the 
year, and tinges the forest in autumn with varied 
and brilliant hues." 

His mother's old garden was always cultivated 
in honor of its former owner. He ordered John 
Taylor to keep it in good condition, if it required 
the labor of an extra hand. Till death he loved 
those species of flowers which used to bloom in his 
mother's garden. The common carnation pink 
never failed to be acceptable to him on this ac- 
count. He always received a bouquet of these 
flowers with peculiar gratitude. At the time of 
his great reception in Boston, in July, 1852, from 
the thousands of elegant bouquets showered upon 
his head as he drove through the streets a niece 
of his selected a bunch of carnation pinks, and pre- 
sented them to him after his arrival at the Revere 
House. He kissed the hand of the donor, saying : 
" How fragrant, how delightful are these little flow- 
ers, such as bloomed in my mother's garden ! " and 
received this little memorial of his mother's tastes 
with evident emotion. He gave directions for the 



3G8 KEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER, 

preservation of all the wreaths, and for the tran- 
scription of the mottoes attached to them by the 
donors, that he might read them at his leisure. 
He was greatly exhausted by the fatigues of the 
da}^ This being known to the crowd, with great 
delicacy of feeling they all withdrew from the 
house and left him to his repose. 

On that day, a little girl said : " I am certain 
Mr. Webster looked at me, and bowed and smiled, 
when I threw the flowers into his carriage." 

As I have already said, he had an enthusiastic 
passion for the sea. He did not like small fresh- 
water ponds, — " martin-boxes," as he called them. 
" I am never lonely," he once said, " by the sea. 
If you ever build a house for a summer retreat, go 
to the sea. You will never be lonely there. These 
little martin-boxes, with their trees and paths, are 
nothing. Go to the sea for tranquil enjoyment." 

It is well known that Mr. Webster never suc- 
ceeded in accumulating a large fortune. Neither 
his character nor his tastes fitted him for this. It 
was fortunate for his country that he was thus con- 
stituted. Mammon, like other divinities, brooks no 
rival ; he requires from his worshippers an exclu- 
sive devotion. There are several reasons why Mr. 
Webster did not amass wealth. He never coveted it 
as an end, but only as a means of doing good and of 
gratifying his peculiar tastes. This is apparent in 
many of his early letters. His very indifference to 
Avealth, moreover, led him to intrust the manage- 
ment of his pecuniary aifairs too implicitly to the 
skill and good faith of his agents. His generous 



PKUSONAL TRAITS. 300 

and confiding nature prompted him not seldom to 
lend his name and influence to enrich others, while 
embarrassing his own fortunes. He was often pre- 
vailed upon to enlist with others in enterprises 
which promised a liberal return for outlays ; but 
in every instance he was a loser, either by the in- 
competency or the fraud of those whom he had 
trusted. It is safe to say that more than one hun- 
dred thousand dollars of his professional gains were 
thus swallowed up. 

It is very likely that a different result would 
have followed in every case, if he could have given 
personal attention to such matters ; but being en- 
grossed in public and professional duties, his private 
affairs were grievously neglected. Moreover, his 
habitual liberality being known, he was importuned 
for public and private charities more than most 
men in his position ; and he was always liberal to 
a fault. When, too, he engaged in public life, he 
sacrificed the income of his profession to the pub- 
lic good. By an exclusive devotion to the law, he 
could easily have earned twenty-five thousand dol- 
lars a year, while his income as a Senator or Secre- 
tary of State would scarcely support his family in 
Washington. He has himself given his own views 
of his character as a financier in a letter which is 
published in part in the "Memorials of Daniel 
Webster," by General Lyman. It is as follows : 

Boston, Jan. 15, 1849, Monday, 12 o'clock. In C. Court United 
States, Many v. Sizer being on trial, and Tahero dicente in lonyttm, 
and another snow-storm appearing to be on the wing. 

My dear Sir, — We are in court yet, :ini] so shall be 
some days longer. We have the evidence in, and a dibcua- 

24 



370 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

eion on the law, preliminary to oui* summing up, is now 
going on. I think it will continue the remainder of this 
day, if it lasts no longer. Mr. Choate will speak to-morrow, 
and I close immediately after. ... I am afraid my luck is 
always bad, and I fear is always to be so. [Mr. Webster 
then proceeds to speak of what he expects, and why he fears 
a disappointment and its consequences. He then adds :] 
It will be said, or may be said hereafter, Mr. Webster was a 
laborious man in his profession and other pursuits ; he never 
tasted of the bread of idleness ; his ])rofession yielded him, 
at some times, large amounts of income : but he seems never 
to have aimed at accumulation, and perhaps was not justly 
sensible of the importance and duty of preservation. Riches 
were never before his eyes as a leading object of regard. 
When young and poor, he was more earnest in struggling for 
eminence than in efforts for making money ; and, in after 
life, reputation, public regard, and usefulness in high pur- 
suits mainly engrossed his attention. He always said, also, 
that he was never destined to be rich ; that no such star pre- 
sided over his birth ; that he never obtained any thing by 
any attempts or efforts out of the line of his profession ; that 
his friends, on several occasions, induced him to take an in- 
terest in business operations ; that as often as he did so loss 
resulted, till he used to say, when spoken to on such sub- 
jects, "Gentlemen, if you have any projects for money- 
making, I pray you keep me out of them ; my singular 
destiny mars every thing of that sort, and would be sure to 
overwhelm your own better fortunes." 

General Lyman adds : " Mr. Webster was tlie 
author of that short biography of most good law- 
yers, which has been ascribed to other sources ; 
namely, that they lived well, worked hard, and died 
l^oor.'' 

In the same letter, says General Lyman, he re- 
lates the followint>; anecdote of himself : " Sittinijr 
one day at the bar in Portsmouth with an elderly 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 371 

member of the bar, his friend, who enjoyed with 
sufficient indulgence that part of a lawyer's lot 
wliich consists ' in hving well,' Mr. Webster made 
an epitaph which would not be unsuitable : — 

" ' Natus consumere fruges, 
Frugibus consumptis 
Hie jacet 
R. C. S.'" 

At the close of the letter he added the followmg 
postscript, relative to the cause on trial : — 

Half-past two o'clock. Cessat Taber ; Choate sequitur, in 
questione juris, crastino die. 

Taber is learned, sharp, and dry; 
Choate, full of fancy, soaring high: 
Both lawyers of the best report, 
True to their clients and the court; 
What sorrow doth a Christian feel, 
Both should be broken on a wheel ? 

It should be said, to explain the last line, that 
the cause in dispute was a question of the infringe- 
ment of a patent for making car-wheels. 

George W. Nesmith, of Franklin, New Hamp- 
shire, was for many years a valued and trusted 
friend of Mr. Webster, and used to attend to many 
of his business matters about Elms Farm. In May, 
1846, Mr. Webster received a letter from a person 
residing in Salisbury, soliciting aid and professing 
to be in very needy circumstances. He thereupon 
addressed to Mr. Nesmith the following letter : 

May 28, 1846. 
Dbak Sir, — If you know the writer of this letter, and 
he is both poor and deserving, you may say to him when you 



372 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

see him, that I am just about as poor as he is ; that I have 
worked more than twelve hours a day for fifty years, on an 
average ; that I do not know experimentally what wealth 
is, nor how the bread of idleness tastes : but that I have 
generally been blessed with good health in my peison and 
my family, for which I give thanks to Providence ; also that 
I have compassion for such cases of sickness and afiliction as 
appear to have visited him and his family ; and, if you think 
five or six dollars would be well bestowed, please hand them 
to him on my account. Yours, &c., 

D. Webster. 

Mr. Nesmith, upon inquiry, found the case to be 
one of real destitution and suffering, and bestowed 
the charity as directed, which was received with 
tears of gratitude. 

Mr. Webster sometimes gave evidence of busi- 
ness tact and strictness, which showed that, if he 
had given attention to his financial affairs, they 
would have been well reo-ulated. 

Some time in the year 1840, he purchased some 
furniture of an upholsterer in Boston. On his 
return from Washington, after a few montlis' ab- 
sence, the bill was presented. It was his impres- 
sion that he had paid for the articles at the time 
of their purchase ; and he asked the creditor to 
call at another time. The same bill was regularly 
presented every time Mr. Webster returned to the 
city. The creditor at length became insolent in his 
demands ; he complained because he was compelled 
to call so often for a small bill, and intimated that 
he should not run after a debtor, if he were ever 
so great a man, any more ; that the law was the 
same for the high and the low, the rich and the 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 373 

poor, and lie should not be slow in calling in its 
aid. Mr. Webster took all this very quietly', say- 
ing : " Call on me, sir, to-morrow at noon, and 
your bill shall be settled." The man replied that 
he would call at that hour, and should expect his 
money without fail. After he had withdrawn, Mr. 
Webster walked into the adjoining room, occupied 
by his partner, Mr. Healy, and observed that a man 
had called several times for the payment of a bill 
for furniture, " which," said he, " I have the im- 
pression has already been paid either by me or 
by yourself. I wish, Mr. Healy, you would look 
among my receipts for the last two years, and 
see if you do not find one for this account." Mr. 
Healy examined the files of receipts in the course 
of the afternoon ; and, on the next morning, brought 
to Mr. Webster two receipts for the same bill in 
two successive years. " Lay them on my table, 
if you please," said Mr. Webster. The same day 
at noon, punctual to the minute, the injured cred- 
itor called. Putting on the air of one whose pa- 
tience had been sorely tasked, he asked if Mr. 
Webster was ready to settle. Mr. Healy had taken 
the precaution to have the door between the two 
offices open, that he might witness the interview, 
expecting, as he said, an explosion. But in that 
he was disappointed ; for Mr. Webster, without 
rising from his seat, simply scanned the man for a 
moment over his shoulder, and, holding out to him 
the two receipts, remarked : — 

" The charges in this bill I always considered 
exorbitant. I thought them so when I paid it: 



374 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

Mr. Healy had the same impression when he paid 
it, as my agent; and as you already have been 
twice paid, as appears by these receipts, it strikes 
me that, if a reasonable man, you ought to be 
satisfied." 

The countenance of the proud creditor fell. He 
left the room without utterino- a word. Mr. Web- 
ster never sought to recover back the money which 
he had overpaid. 

Mr. Abbott, long Mr. Webster's private secretary, 
has given the following testimony to his strictness 
in the payment of his debts : — 

" From my personal knowledge, derived from 
keeping the private accounts of Mr. Webster, 1 
have some opportunity of knowing. Not a bill 
has been presented for two or more years during 
which I have been with him but has been promptly 
paid ; and a few days before he died he called the 
overseer of his farm, gave him five hundred dollars 
to pay every man, and sent for the minister and 
paid all that was due him. So it shall not be said 
Daniel Webster died in debt to any man." 

Mr. Barney, of Baltimore, who has already been 
referred to, gave the following testimony, a few 
weeks after Mr. Webster's death, at once to his 
indifference to money and his sensitiveness about 
receiving it in any other way than as a legitimate 
reward of services : — 

" There was no subject on which this eminently 
great and good man was more sensitive ; and I pro- 
pose to add one incident, illustrative of the refine- 
ment of feeling which characterized him. 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 375 

*' Dining with him and Mrs. Webster alone, on 
the fourth of July, he being then very feeble, I 
urged on him to seek by change of continent to 
escape the annual return of the rheum, or hay fe- 
ver, which attacked him periodically on the 20th 
of August, and from which he had been entirely 
free when in England. 

" Knowing that the kind sympathy and gener- 
ous affection of the President would induce him to 
assign to Mr. Webster any duty whereby his health 
and happiness might be promoted, I suggested his 
acceptance of the embassy to the court of St. 
James. 

" He replied : ' Mr. Abbott Lawrence expends 
seventy thousand dollars a year in sustaining the 
dignity of this position. I am without means to 
meet any expenditure beyond the salary.' 

" To this I said : ' Your numerous friends, who 
earnestly desire that you should prolong your in- 
valuable life, wdll never permit your individual 
resources to be exhausted ; and I am authorized 
to say that whatever funds are necessary will be 
promptly supplied.' 

" ^ Sir,' said he, with a sternness never before 
displayed to me in an intercourse of a quarter of 
a century, ' I duly appreciate the kindness and 
liberality of my friends, but I cannot consent 
to be their pensioner. Never repeat such a sug- 
gestion.' 

" I still shudder at the recollection of his indis;- 
nant frown. 

"■ He had fully realized the truth of one of his 



376 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

own aphorisms : * The man who enters public life 
takes upon himself a vow of poverty, to the relig- 
ious observance of which he is bound so long as he 
remains in it.' And his poverty vindicated his 
integrity." 

Mr. Webster liked to hear good anecdotes, 
whether humorous, historical, or personal, and 
always listened to them with attentive interest. 
He could appreciate a joke or a good " point," and 
caught it very quickly. Not only was he a good 
listener to anecdotes, but he loved to tell them 
himself ; and often beguiled leisure hours by re- 
lating stories of his boyhood, of the neighbors and 
" characters " of his early home, and incidents con- 
nected with his practice at the bar, illustrating the 
traits of distinguished men. I gather here a few 
that he used to tell ; and those who have heard 
him relate anecdotes know how well he did it. 

There was a lawyer who lived in his neighbor- 
hood in New Hampshire, he said, who was famous 
for his skill in collecting debts. There was a great 
deal of litigation in New Hampshire at that time, 
and almost everybody was sued before a debt was 
paid. If a note was given to this lawyer to collect, 
he was sure to get the money from the debtor. 
He snapped at that kind of business ; and anybody 
who had a note that they could not get in any other 
way, would go with it to him. He was out fish- 
ing one day on a pond, when his little craft was 
wrecked, and he was drowned. There was great 
consternation among his neighbors, and they went 
to raking and dragging the pond to find his body, 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 377 

working in this way for days without any success. 
At last, a queer wag, who had been sued a good 
many times by this lawyer, was seen one morning 
standing on the bank of the pond, with a fishing- 
line thrown into the water. Somebody came along 
and asked him, — 

" What are you fishing for ? " 

" Oh," said he, " for . There is a prom- 
issory note on the end of that line ; and I think, 
dead or alive, if it gets to his nose, he will grab at 
it. If this won't fetch him, nothing will." 

To illustrate the power of character and address 
upon a rabble, Mr. Webster related this anecdote. 
Shays's rebellion, so called, extended into New 
Hampshire ; and the mob there, as in Massachu- 
setts, resisted the law, and would not permit the 
courts to sit. In some parts of New Hampshire 
the mob was very violent. The courts were afraid 
to hold their sittings for fear of the mob, although 
no actual violence took place. The supreme court 
of New Hampshire was composed of some of the 
ablest judges in New England, before that time or 
since. The high-sheriff was old General Sullivan, of 
Revolutionary fame. He lived in Portsmouth, and 
had a high reputation for personal courage, which 
he had earned in the war ; and he was, withal, 
a high-toned, earnest Christian. Being the high- 
sheriff, he had charge of the court. The question 
was mooted, whether they should attempt to hold 
a court in Sullivan County, where they knew the 
seat of this rebellion was. The judges were timid ; 



378 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER, 

and, although they felt that it was a great wrong 
done to the law and the right for the court to be 
obliged to yield to a mob, they felt that they had 
no means to enforce their authorit3^ They feared 
that the civil posse at their command could not 
protect them. General Sullivan was consulted, and 
he said : — 

'' We will go and open the court in Keene on 
the day when by law it is there to be held, and I 
will see that every thing is right." 

So they prepared to set out. In those days the 
stage accommodations were not good, and most i 
of the travelhng by all classes was done on horse- 
back. They put their clothes in their saddle-bags ; 
and Sullivan, without the knowledge of the judges, 
put into his portmanteau his whole military suit, — 
coat, epaulettes, and sword, — the same that he 
had worn in the Revolutionary War. His servant 
took his luggage on one horse, and he rode on an- 
other ; and, in this way, the sheriff and the j adges 
started from Portsmouth. They were a day or two 
making the journey, and were constantly getting 
reports from Keene as to the sentiments of the 
people. There seemed to be a strong feeling of 
indignation and a determination to resist the hold- 
ing of the court. The people were apparently re- 
solved that the Rebellion cases should not be tried ; 
and this sentiment seemed to be unanimous. As 
the judicial party approached Keene they stopped 
to dine, and were told that they coidd never get 
to the court-house ; or, if they did, they never 
would be allowed to hold the court : and the 



PEKSONAL TRAITS. 379 

judges ^vere half inclined to turn back. But Gen- 
eral Sullivan said : — 

'" Be firm ; all you have to do is to be firm." 

When the}^ got within about four miles of Keene, 
they began to receive reports directly from that 
place. Persons who had been there met the judges 
with the news, that hundreds of exasperated people 
were gathered from the surrounding country to pre- 
vent any judicial proceedings. The judges turned 
pale, and looked at Sullivan. They said : — 

" We don't wish to be mobbed, and nothing can 
be gained by going on : we have no civil posse or 
power to enforce respect." 

The old hero replied : — 

" You follow me, and it all will end right." 

When within about three miles of Keene, he dis- 
mounted from his horse and took out his military 
suit. The judges looked at him in amazement, 
while he attired himself in full uniform. He was 
a man fully six feet high, as straight as an Indian 
and as brave as a lion ; and his military accoutre- 
ments gave him a still more commanding appear- 
ance. When he was all ready, even to the spurs 
at his heels, he mounted his horse, and told the 
judges to follow him and to keep close by him. 
He drew his sword, and rode his horse to the front. 
On the outskirts of the village, he met a crowd 
of men so dense as to completely block the road. 
General Sullivan shouted out : — 

" Make way for the court ! Let there be no 
obstructing; the court ! " 

The people recognized the old general^ and one 



380 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

of the mob said : •'•' I fought under him at such a 
place ; " and they gazed at him. He bowed pleas- 
antly to those he recognized. He halted to ask 
after the health of some of them and that of their 
families; and the old affection of his comrades in 
war was revived, apparently causing them to for- 
get why they had thus assembled. Before the 
party reached the hotel, the crowd was around old 
Sullivan, overwhelming him with attention. They 
found the hotel full of people, and crowds standing 
about everywhere. The judges went into the hotel 
and sat down, when Sullivan said : — 

" I would open the court and immediately ad- 
journ it, giving as a reason that there are no law- 
yers present and no cases -ready." 

Acting upon this advice, they prepared to walk 
over to the court-house. General Sullivan called 
for the man who had the keys ; who, when he came, 
said " it would not do to attempt to open the court." 
General Sullivan replied : — 

" Take the keys of the court-house and go in 
front of me." 

So he drew his sword, and they started, the jani- 
tor leading the way. General Sullivan coming next, 
and the judges following. When there appeared 
to be the slightest attempt to crowd the path or 
obstruct a free passage, the general would cry out, 
^' Make way for the court ! " and they finally reached 
the door. Then Sullivan said to the janitor : — 

" Put in the key and open the door." 

The frightened man did so, and the judges went 
in, the crowd pouring in after and hlUng up the 



PERSONAL Til AITS. o81 

house. The judges took their seats, aud the gen- 
eral sat down at the clerk's desk. He called upon 
the crier to open the court ; and that form was 
complied wdth. He then said : " The court is now 
open," and took olf his cap and sword and laid 
them on the desk ; then he called upon the chap- 
Iain to offer prayer. That over, a judge rose 
and said : — 

" There seem to be no suitors here and no clerk, 
and I will therefore adjourn the court for three 
months." 

Sullivan got up, deliberately put on his cap and 
sword, and shouted : " Gentlemen, make way for 
the court ! " and they returned to the hotel, mounted 
their horses, and rode off. 

Mr. Webster said that the moral of this incident 
was the power of character over a mob. The feel- 
ing inspired among the mob at Keene was that it 
was of no use to resist General Sullivan ; and three 
thousand exasperated men, who had come there 
with violent purposes, had been subdued by one 
man without any power and by the mere force of 
his character and courage. " That very thing," 
said Mr. Webster, " did more to quell that rebel- 
lion and allay the bitter feeling of the people than 
any other event. Despite the threats of the peo- 
ple, a court had been opened and had adjourned 
simply for the want of business. This fact gave 
the people a different idea of the real power of the 
law, and the respect which should be paid to it." 

Mr. Webster used to tell a good story of Samuel 
Adams and Paul Revere. Samuel Atlams was op' 



882 REmNISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

posed to the Constitution. He was a strong Repub- 
lican, and had fears about the powers of the general j| 
government. The mechanics were, in a body, in 
favor of the adoption of the Constitution, thinking 
that their interests would be promoted. They 
assembled in great numbers, Paul Revere at their 
bead, and held a meeting at the " Green Dragon," 
for the purpose of passing resolutions to be sent 
to the Convention, declaring their opinion in favor 
of the Constitution. They appointed a committee, 
of which Paul Revere was chairman, to carry the 
resolutions to Samuel Adams. The committee 
accordingly repaired to him, and Revere stated 
that he was chairman of a committee of mechanics 
held at the " Green Dragon " on the previous 
evening, which had been appointed for the purpose 
of delivering to him the resolutions respecting the 
Constitution which the meeting had adopted. Mr. 
Adams said : — 

" Mr. Revere, how many mechanics were there 
in the ' Green Dragon ' when these resolutions 
were passed ? " 

" There were more mechanics in the ^ Green 
Dragon ' than the ' Green Dragon ' could hold." 

" There were more than the ' Green Dragon ' 
could hold ? Well, where were the mechanics that 
the ' Green Dragon ' could not hold ? " 

" They were in the street." 

" Well, how many mechanics were there in the 
street ? " 

" There were more mechanics in the street than 
there are stars in lieaven, Mr. Adams ! " 



I 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 383 

Mr. Webster used to say that he wished he had 
the time, as lie had the disposition, to write an ac- 
count of the early New Hampshire settlements. 
His father was one of the pioneers who went from 
the sea-shore, down near Portsmouth, and settled 
upon the extreme borders of civilization. All that 
lay between them and Canada was the primeval 
wilderness, inhabited by Indians and wild beasts. 
There were some incidents connected with the 
early history of those settlements, the recital of 
which, while truthful history, w^ould be more in- 
terestinsr than fiction. 

He related one incident to show the relations 
that existed between the whites and the Indians. 
The Indians used to make occasional incursions 
upon the settlements, so that the wdiites were often 
in fear, and resorted to various means to propitiate 
the Indians. They found it necessary to gather 
their wives and children in a block fort, from the 
top of which, when the Indians threatened, the 
women Avould blow a trumpet, in order to bring 
the men back from the fields, whither they always 
carried their guns. The Indians were treacherous, 
and the settlers felt that they could place no de- 
pendence upon them ; their treaties never being 
regarded as secure. The settlers, however, made 
use of presents to pacify the red men, and finally 
many of the latter became much addicted to the 
use of rum and tobacco. In the neighborhood of 
Webster's father, there lived a man named John 
•Hanson, a laboring man, who was often employed 
to do work for the Websters. His boys were 



384 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WERSTER. 

about Daniel's age. Hanson himself was some- 
what addicted to strong drink, and when in 
liquor was very quarrelsome, and of great vio- 
lence of temper. The Indian chiefs, particularly 
the young chiefs, often visited the white settle- i 
ments, occasionally prolonging their stay for a 
week; at which times they were always treated 
with great hospitality. One of the old chief,>^ 
finally came, and stayed eight or ten days, paying | 
his \dsit chiefly at Hanson's house. One morning 
Hanson and this old chief took their guns and 
started for Dover, — a pretty long jaunt. The 
next day but one, Hanson came back, but the Ind- 
ian was not with him. Somebody asked him, — 

" Where is the Indian ? " 

^' Oh," replied he, " he went home by another 
way." 

13ut there was something about Hanson's appear- 
ance that led the people to fear that all was not right. 
Hanson had evidently been on a spree, was a little 
excited, and did not give a very straight account 
of the Indian. In the course of a week or ten 
days, some men, as they were crossing a stream 
on a little log bridge about four miles distant, 
looked down and saw the remains of the old Ind- 
ian. They took the body out, and found a bullet- 
hole through him. As it proved afterwards, Han- 
son and the Indian had got into an altercation, 
both being full of liquor, and Hanson had shot him, 
and thrown him into this brook. The whole settle- 
ment was filled with excitement. It was a bloody, 
murderous, and wicked deed in itself ; and in it? 



PERSONAL TRAITS 385 

consequences it was alarming. The vindictiveness 
of the Indians was proverbial. They were bound 
by their code to take vengeance upon anybody 
wdio had slain an Indian, and this was an old chief ; 
so that everybody in the settlement looked for an 
immediate attack from the tribe. Hanson was at 
once arrested, and sent to Dover jail. A commit- 
tee was then chosen to visit the tribe and apprise 
them of the facts. They proceeded to the Indian 
encampment, carrying with them the remains of 
the chief. They told them of the murder ; that 
John Hanson had committed it, and that it was 
probably done in liquor. They added, that Han- 
son would be tried for his life, and, if found guilty, 
he would be hung ; and they wished the tribe to 
know that this man's life would just as soon be 
taken for killing an Indian as for killing a white 
man. This was said to propitiate them, and seemed 
to have its effect. But by and by the sentiment 
that a white man's life should never be taken for 
that of an Indian gained ground among the settlers, 
and a re-action took place in favor of Hanson. The 
result was, that in the course of a few weeks a 
dozen stout fellows painted their faces black, signed 
a round robin, and started for Dover jail : they tore 
out the side of the jail, and set Hanson free. The 
whole region was greatly excited, but Hanson got 
away. The pursuit was not very vigorous, for the 
feeling was strong that perhaps Hanson, after all, 
might have had a real provocation from the Indian. 
The excitement gradually died out ; but Hanson 
had a son (about Daniel Webster's age) who was 

25 



f 



386 EEMIXISCE^'CES OF DANIEL VTEBSTER. 



named for his father, and who, after his escape, 
began to express fears that the Indians would visit 
the iniquity of the father upon the son. which was 
their code. He said : — 

'*' My father has escaped jail ; the Indian says 
that he will have revenge upon the next of kin." 

He could not work or even sleep. He imagined 
that every noise he heard was a band of Indians 
comins: to take reveno-e. He was a stronsr. stal- 
wart fellow, but he began to lose his flesh, so that 
his mother and friends became alarmed for him. 
At last he came to the conclusion that he would 
go and deliver himself up to the Indians. He said 
nothing of his purpose until he had resolved upon it. 
Then he told his mother, and started for the Indian 
camp, forty or fifty miles distant. He arrived there, 
and presenting himseh to the chief, said : — | 

'•' I am the son of John Hanson, who slew your 
chief. My father has escaped, and I have come to 
offer mvself in his stead. You mav take me and 
do what you please with me." 

This touched the macrnanimitv of the Indians, 
and they asked him how he would like to be 
adopted into their tribe. 

He rephed that, if that was their wish, nothing 
would please him more. 

So they made an Indian of him : he put on the 
Indian costume, married a squaw, and was made a 
chief of the tribe ; and he lived and died among 
the Indians. 

Mr. Webster related this incident in the follow- 
insr connection. He said : — 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 387 

" In 1840, (luring the Whig campaign, I went to 
New Hampshire to make a speech. It was a hot day 
in September ; people had come from far and near, 
in the excitement of the time, to attend the meet- 
ing. After the speaking was over, a plain, farmer- 
Hke person came upon the stand and wished to be 
introduced to me. 

" ' I don't suppose, Mr. Webster,' said he, ' that 
you remember Jane Hanson.' I stopped for an 
instant, and then said : — 

" ' Yes, I do : what of her ? 

" ' I am her husband, and we live in Bradford, 
on the opposite side of the river. I have come up 
here to see you ; my wife says that she would give 
one of our best cows to see you ! ' 

" ' Well,' I replied, ' she shall see me for less than 
the price of a cow ; for I will go and see her.' 

" It was my intention to return to Hanover that 
night with Colonel Brewster; so we drove down 
on the other side of the river, a mile or two out of 
the way, to see the Hansons; and when we got 
there we found that the farmer had preceded us. 
There I saw one whom I remembered only as a 
girl of fourteen or fifteen, now a nice, respectable 
matron, with her children about her ; the wife of a 
very well-to-do farmer. Our meeting brought up 
the reminiscences of early days, and she talked of 
them with tears in her eyes. I inquired about 
John, and she said she had heard from him, but 
had never seen him. All they knew of him was 
that he lived among the Indians, and was himself 
an Indian. 



388 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

"The history of that border," added Mr. Webster, 
" for thirty or forty years, is filled with incidents 
of that kind ; with hardships, heroism, self-denial, 
and the great fortitude with which that race of 
almost martyrs bore their rude civilization, — 
planting those institutions from which we are 
now deriving the benefit, without, as I frequently 
think, feeling and acknowledging the obligations 
we owe to them." 

When Mr. Webster was in England, he dined 
on one occasion with the Archbishop (Howell) of 
Canterbury. There were about twenty guests 
present ; and after the cloth had been removed 
the English custom of after-dinner speech-making, 
which was rather novel to Mr. Webster, was fol- 
lowed. It was customary, if a member of the 
Government was present, to call him out by drink- 
ing his health, and for him to acknowledge the 
compliment in a speech. Much to Mr. Webster's 
surprise, — for he did not suppose there was to be 
any thing of that kind, — an eminent lawyer, a 
relative of the Archbishop, but a man of whom 
he had never heard, rose and made some remarks, 
prefacing his speech by stating that they had for 
a guest a distinguished gentleman from America. 
In closing, he said : — 

" I would propose, my lords and gentlemen, the 
health of Mr. Webster, a member of the Upper 
Senate of New York." 

Mr. Webster's comment on this was that it was 
ludicrous ; and he added, that he had often thought 
that if any prominent American, occupying a simi- 



I 



PERSONAL TRAITS. 389 

lar position in society and having had the same 
opportunities of knowledge, should make such a 
blunder and show such total ignorance of the Eng- 
lish government and its forms, it would subject 
hnn to very marked contempt and ridicule at 
home. Ignorance like this, in high places, im- 
pressed him very much while in England. He 
had occasion to explain to a great many English 
gentlemen, and even eminent politicians, the the- 
ory and practice of the American system. In the 
course of conversation they would say, — 

" You are a Senator of the United States ? " 

" Yes, sir." 

" Well, where, — in Massachusetts ? " 

They did not seem to understand our political 
distinctions ; and he had to explain to his question- 
ers the nature of those distinctions. He would say 
that the States were represented in the general 
government, each State being entitled to two Sen- 
ators, and to Representatives according to their 
population. As soon as the Englishmen began to 
understand these distinctions, they manifested their 
surprise, and many of them received his instruc- 
tions with great delight. Some went so far as to 
declare that ours must be " a miracle of govern- 
ment." 

Mr. Webster said that about the time he was 
going abroad a pamphlet had been published, 
giving the statistics of the productions of Mas- 
sachusetts, — her manufactures, commerce, and 
agriculture. It had been compiled under the 
administration of Governor Everett, and at hi? 



390 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

suggestion. When Mr. Webster started for Eu- 
rope, he put a few copies of this pamphlet into 
his trunk, thinking they might serve to answer 
questions and to interest himself. On one occa- 
sion, an English nobleman asked him, — 

" Tell me what constitutes the wealth and labor 
of the State in which you live ; what do the peo- 
ple do ? " 

Mr. Webster described the population, and said 
that he would send him a little pamj)hlet that 
would answer all his questions. The nobleman 
thanked him, and the next day Mr. Webster ful- 
filled his promise. On meeting him a short time 
afterwards at a dinner party, the nobleman imme- 
diately acknowledged the receipt of the pamphlet, 
and remarked that he had been very much sur- 
prised at the facts contained in it. 

" Does your State borrow money in our mar- 
ket ? " asked he. 

Mr. Webster told him that he believed it did. 

" Well," returned the nobleman, " I am going to 
order my banker to invest from ten to twenty 
thousand pounds in your securities. You are a 
busy set of bees in Massachusetts. The bonds of 
such a State must be good." 

Mr. Webster was fond of moralizing upon the 
period in which he lived, and often talked of the 
rapid progress which civilization had made and 
was making in this century. His views of the 
race and its destinies were always cheerful; he 
seldom looked upon the dark side of things. He 
was profoundly interested in his kind. Once, in 



'^ 



fERSONAL TRAITS. 391 

feptiaking of the age in which he lived, he said to 
me : — 

'' I think our Hnes have fallen in pleasant places, 
and in a pleasant period of the world's history. 
I have reflected much on the past and on the 
future, in connection with events that are passing 
before our eyes: and I am rather inclined to the 
belief — though all generations of men think they 
are wiser than those w^io have preceded them — 
that, for discovery, this age has certainly surpassed 
every other of which history renders us an account. 
And I doubt whether any century in the future 
will be so prolific in discoveries beneficial to the 
race as ours has been. Take steam, as applied to 
the advancement of civilization and the progress 
of human society, — that one discovery has dis- 
tinguished this age from all others. I remember 
well when Fulton was seeking aid from Congress, 
and sent his boat up to Albany propelled by steam. 
He was looked upon by those whose influence he 
sought as a wild visionary, an enthusiast ; as a man 
better fitted for an insane asylum than for practical 
life. Very scientific men demonstrated that it was 
impossible to apply steam to the purpose of navi- 
gation, — that the amount of fuel required would 
alone prevent it. Now, think of it ! merchant ves- 
sels are having more or less steam applied to their 
navigation, Think of steam as applied to the rail- 
road, and the changes it has wrought in society ! 
Then take the discovery of ether, — an event the 
full benefits of which we can hardly realize as yet. 
Just think of the human suffering prevented by that 



392 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

discovery ! think of the pain of amputations and 
other operations prevented in hospitals ! But the 
miracle of miracles is the telegraph. Whatever 
improvements may be made in the instruments of 
telegraphic transmission, the agent itself cannot 
be improved. It is impossible, because it is as 
quick as thought. Steam, electricity, ether, and 
the ten thousand things that have grown from 
them, — think of it ! What age has produced 
any thing hke it, for the advancement of human 
society and the amelioration of human suffering ? 
I think that we who live in this nineteenth century 
have, as far as the development of these great 
discoveries goes, the advantage over all who have 
preceded us ; and I think we shall have the ad- 
vantage over the generations that are to follow. 
That is my opinion ; and I thank God that it has 
pleased Him to assign my life to just this age of 
the world." 



CHAPTER XI. 

RELIGIOUS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 

Mr. Webster thought often and profoundly on 
rehgious subjects. He had the most devout rev- 
erence for the Holy Scriptures, and was long in 
the habit of reading them every day. He often 
spoke of the delight tlieir perusal gave him, espe- 
cially the Gospels. He searched himself ; and, 
while he had doubts and fears in regard to his 
own spiritual state, his conviction of the truth of 
the leading Christian doctrines was full and un- 
questioning. Throughout his life, this seems to 
have been the condition of his mind on religious 
subjects. The early lessons of piety taught by 
his revered mother were not forgotten to the end 
of his days. He always believed in a reverential 
keeping of the Sabbath. He wrote thus to Charles 
W. Ridgeley, secretary of a society organized to 
promote its better observance : — 

" The longer I live, the more highly do I esti- 
mate the importance of a proper observance of 
the Christian Sabbath, and the more grateful do 
I feel towards those who take pains to impress a 
sense of this importance on the community. The 



394 REMIMSCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

Lord's Day is the day on which the gospel is 
preached. It is the day of public worship through- 
out the Christian world ; and, although we live in 
a reading age and in a reading community, yet 
the preaching of the gospel is the human agency 
which has been and still is most efficaciously em- 
ployed for the spiritual good of men. That the 
poor had the gospel preached to, them was an evi- 
dence of His mission which the Author of Chris- 
tianity himself proclaimed ; and to the public 
worship of the Deity, and to the preaching of the 
gospel, the observance of the Sabbath is obviously 
essential." 

Many anecdotes and narratives have been given, 
illustrating Mr. Webster's devotional spirit, his rev- 
erence for all things sacred, and his frequent and 
serious contemplation of religious subjects. A 
venerable Presbyterian clergyman, who knew Mr. 
Webster in the early period of his public career, 
thus testifies to his religious character : — 

*• I was a student in Mr. Webster's office, in 
Portsmouth, during his second term in the lower 
House of Congress. He was then a communicant 
in the Presbyterian Church, of which Rev. J. W. 
Putnam was pastor. My own mind was there 
deeply awakened to the subject of religion. I 
united with the same church, and went for the 
first time to the communion-table in company with 
my esteemed preceptor. These important events 
in my own life led me to frequent conversations 
with Mr. Webster on the subject of religion as 
well as of law. The result was, I relinquished the 



RELIGIOUS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 395 

study of the law, with his approval and advice, 
for the study of theology. 

" Mr. Webster was a man of deep religious feel- 
ing. He united with the church of the Rev. 
Thomas Worcester, in Salisbury, his native town, 
early after he entered on the practice of the law ; 
and Mr. Worcester has told me that he then gave 
pleasing evidence of the sincerity and reality of 
his piety. During my residence in his office, the 
controversy was in progress between Doctors 
Worcester and Channing on the subject of the 
Trinity. The pamphlets of these distinguished 
theologians were received as they successively 
issued from the press, and were read by us to- 
gether. Mr. Webster said that Dr. Worcester 
had 'not only the truth, but the argument.' 

" Mr. Webster was a Bible student and a thorough 
theologian. His doctrinal views were those which 
naturally result from taking the sovereignty and 
infinite perfections of God as a stand-point, and in- 
vestisratino; truth under the instructions of the 
Bible, implicitly received as a divine revelation to 
instruct our ignorance and enlighten our darkness. 
I never heard him conduct an argument on reli- 
gious doctrine. I have often heard him state 
his convictions, and leave others to dispute. He 
was tolerant to those who differed from him, and 
expressed httle preference for forms of worship 
or church order. Abstruse reasonings in the 
pulpit always gave him uneasiness ; but plain, 
pungent preaching, which arraigned the sinner as 
guilty before a holy God and a holy law, always 



396 REMmiSCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

gained his commendation. His closing scene of 
life was such as I always expected. 

" After a long life of unsurpassed labor in his 
profession and in politics, as he felt the end ap- 
proaching, he first disposed of his official business, 
then minutely dictated his will, and then fell back 
on his religious hopes, — giving his last hours to 
religion, as to a familiar subject, long cherished. 
He was a patriot : he was so to the last. He was 
a father: he blessed his family. But these and 
all other subjects were opportunely disposed of, 
and his closing thoughts were, as we should have 
wished them to be, as we shall wish ours to be, of 
God in Christ, and of immortality." 

In early life, as stated in the foregoing, Mr. 
Webster united with the Congregational Church 
in Sahsbury. On removing to Portsmouth, he 
took a letter from this church to Dr. Buckminster's, 
also Congregationalist. When he went to Boston, 
he carried a letter to the Brattle Street Church. 
This society he never officially left. He often 
worshipped at other churches, especially at Epis- 
copal churches ; but at Marshfield usually attended 
the Congregationalist Church. 

A writer says of Mr. Webster, that he " seems 
to have been what is called an ' Orthodox man, 
though with an enlarged liberality in his mode of 
thinking and acting, — making the Bible, and not 
any denominational creed, his rule of faith and 
practice." 

Mr. Ely, of Rochester, in whose house Mr. 
Webster was paying a visit in September, 1848, 



RELIGIOUS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 397 

thus relates a conversation which he then had with 
tlie great statesman on various subjects, inckiding 
religion : — 

" One evening, Mr. Webster, Mr. Hall, Mrs. Ely, 
and myself, were in the parlor alone. Mr. Webster 
commenced conversation in a most pleasant man- 
ner, narrating many incidents of his early days. 
Among others, he mentioned that from infancy to 
manhood his health was extremely frail and feeble. 
No one of his friends expected him to live long. 
He had a perfectly distinct recollection, when very 
young, of having been a long time sick, and re- 
membered that while in this state his father one 
day, entering the room with him in his arms, said 
to his mother, ' We must give him up ; we never 
can raise this child.' His mother made no reply ; 
but, rising, took him from his father's arms, and 
her tears fell fast upon his face as she pressed him 
to her bosom. 

" The conversation then turned upon his early 
family friends, for whom he seemed to have enter- 
tained the most tender affection. The subject of 
religion next occupied him. 

" He stated the fact of his having united with a 
Congregational church when not far from twenty 
years of age. He dwelt upon the importance of 
earnest piety on the part of the clergy, and also 
of greater attention to oratory and the arrange- 
ment of discourses. He regretted that so large a 
portion of them should be apparently indifferent 
to a subject so important as the manner of present- 
ing the truth of God's word. He spoke of his 



398 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

early and constant habit of reading the Scriptures, 
and enlarged upon the beauty and sublimity of the 
Gospels. It was to him a matter of astonishment 
that any enlightened mind could doubt their divine 
authority. He said he read them with increasing 
interest, and deemed them perfect models of sim- 
ple beauty. No one, he remarked, had a higher 
estimate than himself of the power of the gospel 
to transform the character. He mentioned the 
sudden death of a number of eminent men with 
whom he had been associated, — who, like himself, 
had been almost wholly engrossed in public affairs ; 
and remarked that they seldom lived beyond the 
age of seventy-two years. He himself, he said, 
could not expect to survive that period. His mind 
seemed to be impressed with the idea that he 
should die suddenly, probably while engaged in 
public speaking." 

The following testimony to his bearing in church, 
and the conspicuous traits of his religious character, 
was given soon after his death, by one who had 
ample opportunity to observe him in this phase of 
his daily life : — 

" Mr. Webster's appearance at church was striking. 
He entered the house of God with an apparent rev- 
erence, which is quite uncommon. He walked up 
the aisle to his pew in the church at Marsh field, as 
if he trod a hallowed floor. As he sat, his mind 
seemed impressed with the sacredness of the day, 
the place, and the spiritual themes that pressed 
upon him. He was fond of sacred music, and as 
the Ooir proceeded with this interesting part of 



RELIGIOUS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 309 

divine worship, he frequently joined it witli his 
deep bass. During the service of prayei he stood 
up with the minister and congregation, after the 
manner of our Pilgrim Fathers, with great devout- 
ness of manner. 

" As the text was announced, it was his custom 
to look it out in a small polyglot Bible that was 
always before him, with the purpose, seemingly, 
of attending to the text with its connection. This 
being done, he was a devout and attentive hearer 
of the discourse. Though it would seem to be a 
difficult duty to preach before such a man as Dan- 
iel Webster, yet to the preacher who had made the 
best preparation he could, and who was in earnest 
in presenting the great themes of the gospel, it 
was an agreeable duty, for such a preacher always 
had the sympathy and earnest attention of his 
greatest hearer. 

" His minister, on one Sabbath, preached two ser- 
mons on the immortality of the soul, from words 
in Job, — a book that Mr. Webster admired and 
studied, both for its food for the intellect and the 
heart. The words were, ' If a man die shall he 
live again ? ' Mrs. Webster and friends were 
present in the morning. In the afternoon, Mr. 
Webster was in his place, though his health was 
but indifferent. He seemed specially interested 
in that particular subject ; and from conversations 
since, and from that remarkable discourse he gave 
upon it in his dying chamber, it is evident he re- 
flected upon it much, and with great interest. Dur- 
ing the same year, 1849, I believe, the words of 



400 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

the text on another occasion, were those of Pilate 
to JesuSj ' What is truth ? ' From the insincerity 
and indifference of Pilate in proposing this ques- 
tion, it was attempted to show the manner and 
spirit that become religious inquirers, who would 
come to a saving knowledge of the truth. 

"Mr. Webster was all attention from the an- 
nouncement of the text, and kept his great black 
eyes fixed upon the speaker until he closed his 
discourse. Such piercing eyes were seldom, if 
ever, fixed upon a preacher in ancient or modern 
times ; and one having felt their power can readily 
believe the anecdote that was told by the late Dr. 
Codman, of Dorchester, of a young minister fresh 
from Andover, who, under the influence of those 
same eyes, was struck dumb in the midst of his 
discourse and sank into his seat, leaving the doc- 
tor, who was more accustomed to face that distin- 
guished hearer, to finish the discourse. 

"Mr. Webster was not a critical hearer of ser- 
mons, in the sense of being fastidious in reference 
to language and manner. He was pleased with 
simphcity, devoutness, and earnestness in a minis- 
ter of holy things, as becoming the man and becom- 
ing the theme. Any levity in the pulpit he could 
not brook. He wished to be instructed by a ser- 
mon J but, above all, he wished to be made to feel 
as a sinner, accountable to his God. In his own 
words, that have come to be immortal, he wished 
preaching to come home to him ' as a personal 
matter.' As an illustration of this, while Mr. 
Webster was on a summer visit to his farm in 



RELIGIOUS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 401 

Franklin, N. H., Rev. Mr. Knight, at that time pas- 
tor of the Congregational Church in that place, 
took occasion in the course of a sermon, in the 
presence of Mr. Webster, to address some words 
of exhortation adapted to men in public life and 
called to high places, evidently alluding to his dis- 
tinguished hearer and occasional parishioner. Mr. 
Webster received the gospel message with all the 
kindness with which it fell from the lips of this 
simple-hearted and pious country clergyman ; and, 
at the close of the service, waited until he descended 
from the pulpit, and then took him by the hand and 
thanked him for his fidelity to his Master and to him. 

" All unnatural display in the pulpit, and exhi- 
bitions of quasi greatness, were displeasing to Mr. 
Webster. He preferred goodness rather than great- 
ness, while affected greatness was painful to him. 
A clergyman in a town not very remote from Marsh- 
field wrote what he fancied to be a great sermon, 
just the one to preach before Daniel Webster. Not 
long after, he arranged an exchange with the pastor 
of the First Church in Marshfield, and in due time 
made his appearance in the pulpit before the great 
man to whom he had come to preach if not to pray. 
He delivered his great discourse, accompanied with 
violent beating of the air. The mountain labored, 
but not even a church mouse was produced, though 
several, doubtless, were frightened away. 

" The preacher still supposed he had made a great 
effort, and doubtless he had. Mr. Webster not re- 
maining to compliment his sermon at the close 
of the service, early on Monday morning he hast- 

26 



402 llEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

ened to Ms mansion, two miles distant, to receive 
his praises, not doubting but that they would be 
showered upon him, with an apology for not re- 
turnincr his thanks sooner. Mr. Webster received 
him, acccording to the minister's account of the 
interview, rather ceremoniously, and treated him 
somewhat cooll3^ He made no allusion to the dis- 
course. The clergyman was uneasy, and soon left 
for home, with a feeling, as his profession would 
say, decidedly Mondayish, and ever after contended 
that Daniel Webster could not appreciate a great 
sermon. 

" It was generally admitted before the death of 
Mr. Webster that he was the foremost lawyer, 
statesman, diplomatist, and orator in the land. But 
the truth is, Daniel Webster, in the judgment of 
those w^ho knew him best, was as good as he was 
great. Nor was he a mere theorist in religion. 
He was a practical Christian, eminently thought- 
ful upon God, upon His works, and His word ; and 
the clergyman wdiose preaching and life met the 
approval of his judgment and conscience might 
feel quite sure that he was doing the work of his 
Master." 

A gentleman who was present on one occasion 
at a dinner party at the Astor House, given by 
Mr. Webster to a few of his New York friends, re- 
lates an incident which took place at the table, in 
which Mr. Webster earnestly avowed his deep reli- 
gious convictions. It was when he was Secretary 
of State in Mr. Fillmore's cabinet. 

" There were twenty or so at the table. Mr. 



RELIGIOUS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 403 

Webster seemed wearied by his journey, and 
speaking but little, if at all, plunged into a dark- 
some sort of reverie, not well calculated to enliven 
his friends. This at length became so apparent, 
and the situation of all so unpleasant, that one of 
the company urged upon a distinguished man 
present, a warm friend of Mr. Webster, to get 
him into conversation. It was thought he only 
needed to be jogged, to become as lively as they 
wished. 

" This friend consented, and spoke to Mr. Web- 
ster, asking him some question that in ordinary 
circumstances and with ordinary men would have 
led to conversation ; but it failed in the present 
case. The dark Secretary of State merely raised 
his head and answered simply, and crept into his 
cave again. 

" Again the gentleman, frightened by his failure, 
was urged to renew the attempt to draw him out. 
He summoned courage and said to Mr. Webster : 

" ' Mr. Webster, I want you to tell me what was 
the most important thought that ever occupied your 
mind.' 

" Here was a thumper for him, and so everybody 
thought at the table. Mr. Webster slowly passed 
his hand over his forehead, and in a low tone said 
to a friend near him : — 

" ' Is there any one here who does not know 
me?' 

" ' No sir, they all know you — are aU your 
friends.' 

" Then he looked over the table, and you may 



404 llEMIXISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER 

well imagine how the tones of his voice would 
sound upon such an occasion, giving answer to 
such a question. 

'"^ The most important thought that ever occu- 
pied my mind,' said he, ' was that of my individ- 
ual responsibility to God ! ' — upon which, for 
twenty minutes, he spoke to them, and when he 
had finished he rose from the table and retired to 
his room. The rest of the company, without a 
word, went into an adjoining parlor, and when 
they had gathered there some of them exclaimed, 
' Who ever heard any thing like that ? ' What Mr. 
Webster said in advocacy of his sublime thought 
I do not know; no one ever repeated it, and 1 
presume no one ever will." 

In the composition and delivery of sermons, Mr. 
Webster loved to see (as has been remarked) sim- 
plicity and directness. Many clergymen supposed 
that if Mr. Webster were listening they ought to 
be learned, profound, and argumentative ; but they 
utterly mistook his taste in this respect. He pre- 
ferred those sermons which appealed most directly 
to the conscience of the individual, and avoided 
topics of controversy. For a political sermon he 
had no relish, even when it accorded with his own 
views. After listening to an elaborate discourse on 
the Revolutionary movements in Europe, in 1848, 
based on the text : " I will overturn, overturn, 
overturn it; and it shall be no more, until lie 
come, whose right it is ; and I will give it Him," 
he went home quite disquieted. He talked to his 
family and to a friend who was present of the folly 



RELIGIOUS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 405 

of attempting to interpret prophecy by passing 
events. 

" In the first place," he observed, " the clergy- 
man has not a sufficient knowledge of European 
politics to explain intelligently the causes or re- 
sults of existing commotions. Secondly, the events 
are too near us, and exert too much influence over 
our sympathies, for us to determine what the divine 
purpose is in respect to them. Thirdly, the pulpit 
is not the proper place for such speculations. I do 
not," added he, " go to church to learn history ; 
but to be reminded of duty." 

It happened to Mr. Webster once, to attend 
divine service in a quiet country village. The 
clergyman was a simple-hearted, pious old man. 
After the introductory exercises, he rose and named 
his text ; and, with the utmost simplicity and earn- 
estness, said : — 

"My friends, we can die but once;" then he 
paused. 

" Frigid and weak as these words might seem at 
f.rst," said Mr. Webster, " they were to me among 
' the most impressive and awakening I ever heard. 
I never felt so sensibly that I must die at all, as 
when that devout old man told me I could ' die 
but once ! ' " 

Mr. Webster exceedingly liked the society of 
intelligent clergymen. He always welcomed them 
to his house, and tried to make their visits pleasant. 
One summer when I boarded in Medford, Mr. Web- 
ster came out to dine with me ; and after dinner, 
in the evening, I drove him to town in my gig. 
As we were about to leave, I said : — 



406 REMINISCE]^ CES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

" By the way, there is a very intelhgent clergy* 
man here, whom you perhaps know by reputation, 
and who in conversation has spoken of you with 
great respect and admiration, — Dr. WiUiam Adams 
of New York. He married the daughter of Mr. 
Thatcher Magoun, and has come on to spend his 
vacation. He is a great admirer of yours." 

" I used to know Thatcher Magoun," he rephed, 
" twenty years ago ; suppose we drive up and see 
them." 

So we drove up, and found Dr. Adams there. We 
spent a pleasant half hour with them, and, in part- 
ing, Mr. Webster told Dr. Adams that he should 
be very much delighted to see him at Marshfield. 
Dr. Adams thanked him, and we retired. While 
riding in, our conversation turned upon religious 
topics. It was seldom that I asked him any thing 
about his religious views. He talked very freely 
about them. 

" Mr. Webster," said I, " you are a member of 
what we call the Orthodox Church ? " 

" Yes," replied he, " I am ; I joined the church 
to which my father, mother, and elder brothers and 
sisters belonged, in my native town, — the Orthodox 
Congregational Church. I remember it well now." 

I said : " When you came to Boston, you went to 
the Unitarian Church, and they now speak of you 
as a Unitarian." 

" I am not a Unitarian," he replied. " I should 
be regarded as perhaps rather liberal in my views ; 
but if I had, with my experience of life, and a good 
deal of reflection, to choose a church and form of 



RELIGIOUS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 407 

worship, I do not think I wouki change my church '' 
relations. The organization is simple, and still has 
enough of form. It imposes suitable restraints, 
but not enough to make the matter so formal as 
to substitute the thinsr sio-nifving; for the thino; it- 
self. When I came to Boston, many of my friends 
went to Brattle Street Church. Buckminster was 
its minister, one of whose brothers was my precep- 
tor at Exeter. Then, the divisions were not so 
marked as now. Dr. Codman would preach in 
Brattle Street Church, and Dr. Little at the Old 
South. Afterwards, the division took place, but I 
never felt it worth while to change. I was not 
here a great deal ; and at Marshfield I always 
attended the Orthodox Church, which I continue 
to do." 

A few days after Mr. Webster's interview with 
Dr. Adams at Medford, the doctor came to me and 
said he was going to pay a visit in Duxbury ; and 
added : " If I thought Mr. Webster was sincere in 
asking me to Marshfield, I would go down there 
and see him." 

" He was perfectly sincere," I replied, " and 
would be delighted to see you." 

Dr. Adams said he did not feel quite well enough 
acquainted with him to visit his house ; yet if I 
thought he was really in earnest, he should ven- 
ture. I told him to go by all means ; Mr. Webster 
would certainly make him welcome. A few days 
after that he went down to Duxbury, and his host 
carried him one morning over to Marshfield. Mr. 
Webster was at home and was glad to see him. Dr. 



408 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

Adams stayed through the day, Mr. Webster insist- 
ing upon his remaining ; and he thought it was 
one of the most dehghtful days in his life. Their 
friendship from that time was one of great inti- 
macy. Mr. Webster conceived a liigh admiration 
for Dr. Adams, who was a very accomplished and 
able man. 

In February, 1851, Mr. Webster went to New 
York, to deliver an address before the Historical 
Society. As the 22d of February came on Sunday, 
the celebration was put off till Monday ; and, on 
Sunday, Dr. Adams preached a sermon before the 
Youno: Men's Christian Association. There were 
fifty clergymen in the house, as well as many emi- 
nent gentlemen in civil life ; and Mr. Webster and 
myself were present by invitation. The text was 
" The sword of the Lord and of Gideon," and upon 
it was founded a very beautiful address, — a sort 
of eulogy on Washington. As we left the church, 
Mr. Webster spoke of it very highly. He referred 
to Dr. Adams as a man of high attainments, a 
scholar and Christian gentleman. 

Soon after Mr. Webster had delivered his 7th of 
March speech, the pulpits of the land began preach- 
ing on one side or the other of the Compromise 
Measures, Many of the sermons were published. I 
was in Washington that winter ; and some of these 
discourses used to reach Mr. Webster through the 
mail nearly every day, being sent by their authors. 
His habit was to ask me to open his pamphlets, and 
see what they were about. I would open them, 
read the names of the authors, and occasionally au 



RELIGIOUS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 409 

extract. He usually paid but little attention, per- 
haps saying that they did not amount to mucli, or 
something of that kind. Finally, I came to one by 
Dr. Adams. " Ah ! " exclaimed he, " that will be 
good. To-night we will read that." So that even- 
ing, we being alone, I read it aloud to Mr. and 
Mrs. Webster. It was a conservative, Christian, 
and dignified discourse ; and Mr. Webster was 
constantly ejaculating through the whole of it, 
" Excellent ! " When I had read it through, he 
said : " That is a most beautiful discourse ; if the 
pulpits of America were all occupied by such men 
as that, — that great conservative influence, the pul- 
pit, — this Government and its institutions would 
last for ever. That is admirable. I will write to 
Dr. Adams and thank him for it, if I never do 
another thing." He accordingly wrote a letter to 
Dr. Adams, which the latter told me afterwards 
he considered one of the most precious treasures 
he could leave to his children. 

Mr. Webster had a strong affection for the devo- 
tional songs of Dr. Watts. He learned most of 
them by heart in boyhood, and repeated them and 
sung them, alone and in company, in manhood. A 
friend called on him one Sabbath evening, in New 
York. Having observed him at church during the 
day, the friend inquired how he had been pleased 
with the sermon. Mr. Webster replied that he had 
had his thoughts diverted from the discourse by 
opening the hymn-book and reading a stanza of 
that beautiful hymn of Watts, commencing — 

" Welcome, sweet day of rest," 



410 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

and which had been altered as follows : — 

" My willing soul would stay 
In such a frame as this, 
Till called to rise and soar away 
To everlasting bliss." 

He was so vexed by the audacity of the compiler, 
who had mutilated the exquisite harmony of the 
original, and destroyed the beautiful allusion to the 
dying swan, that he could not enjoy the services. 
He then repeated, with evident feeling, the stanza 
as Watts wrote it : — 

" My willing soul would stay 
In such a frame as this, 
And sit and sing herself away 
To everlasting bliss." 

The year before Mr. Webster died, in the au- 
tumn of 1851, I was spending a few weeks with 
him at his place in Franklin. One pleasant morn- 
ing he said to me : — 

"I am going to take a drive up to Andover, and 
I want you to go with me." 

Andover was about ten miles from his place in 
Franklin. He added : — 

" We can start after breakfast, and it will take 
us an hour and a half or two hours to go. We 
shall only want to stay there an hour or so, and 
we will return in time for dinner. When we get 
into the wagon I will tell you whom I am going to 



see." 



The horse was harnessed, and we started off. 
As we rode along, Mr. Webster had a great many 
reminiscences called to mind by different objects 



fJELIGIOUS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 411 



that we passed. Such a man used to live here, 
he would say, and such a man lived in such a house, 
and there I remember such a man lived ; and here 
he used himself to Hve when a boy, and there he 
used to pitch quoits, and in another place he used 
to play with John Holden's boys. 

One incident to which Mr. Webster called my 
attention, connected with the early days of the 
Kevolution, I must not omit to mention. A few 
rods from the bank of the river along which we 
were riding was a small tuft of an island, upon 
which stood a solitary tree. Mr. Webster pointed 
out this spot, and called my attention to the tree 
standing there alone. 

" That tree," said he, " used to be a favorite 
mark in the target-practice of the band of minute 
men, who, when they went down from New Hamp- 
shire and took part in the battle of Bunker Hill, 
chose my father as their captain. These men, — 

'. many of them trained in the hard experiences of 
frontier life, and having a firm reliance upon their 
trusty rifles, — of course had good guns, and in- 
deed took no little pride in them and in their skill 
in handling them. This tree was a target for 

, them ; and here they would come and exercise 
their skill. Being at long distance, the thing to 
be done was to hit the body of the tree itself; 
and the way in which they determined whether 

, the tree was hit was rather a novel one. If the 
bullet did not strike the tree it would fall into the 
water beyond the tree, and the splash where it 
struck the water would be readily noticed ; but. if 



412 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

there was no disturbance of the surface of tlie 
water beyond the tree, it was taken for granted 
that the ball had struck the tree itself. My father 
used to describe to me these matches among the 
frontier marksmen ; and he would say that when 
his turn came to try his hand with the others, he 
never failed of being set down as having hit the 
tree. These men were, of course, all under the 
command of my father whenever they were on 
duty in the field ; but here, in the neighborhood 
of their homes, they were all on the same footing, 
and one was just as good as another. My father 
always used to take part in these competitive tests. 
And, as there never was any splash in the water 
after his shot, he got the credit of being the best 
marksman among them all. 

" ' How did you manage to do it ?' I once asked 
him. 

" ' Oh, simply enough,' he replied, with a hearty 
laugh as he added : ' The fact is, I never used to 
put any bullet into my gun ! ' " 

After Mr. Webster had recounted various pleas- 
ing reminiscences of this kind, he said : — 

" Now I will tell you the object of this trip to- 
day. I am going to see a man by the name of 
Colby. John Colby is a brother-in-law ^f mine. 
He married my oldest half-sister, and was, of 
course, a good many years older than myself, — 
as she was. I have not seen him for forty-five years, 
as nearly as I can recollect. My sister, his wife, 
has been dead many, many years ; and any interest 
I may have had in John Colby has all died out : but 



RELIGIOUS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 413 

I have learned some particulars about his recent 
life that interest me very much, and I am going 
to see him. I will tell you something about him. 
When I was a lad at home, on the farm, John 
Colby was a smart, driving, trading, swearing yeo- 
man, money-loving and money-getting. In that 
rather rude period, when there were not many 
distinctions in society, when one man was about 
as good as another, and when there were very few 
educated persons, he was considered a very smart, 
active man. I remember him, however, with a sort 
of terror and shudder. He would pick me up when 
I was a little fellow, throw me astride of a horse bare 
back, and send the horse to the brook. The horse 
would gallop, and I had to hold on to his mane to 
keep from being pitched into the river. Colby was 
a reckless, wild, harum-scarum, dare-devil sort of a 
fellow. Well, John Colby married my oldest half- 
sister. She was a religious, good woman ; but 
beaux were not plenty, and John Colby was a fine- 
looking man. His personal habits were good enough, 
laying aside his recklessness ; he was not a drink- 
ing man, and he was, as the world goes, a thrifty 
man. Any of the girls in town would have married 
John Colby. After he married my sister, I went 
away to college, and lost sight of him. Finally, he 
went up to Andover and bought a farm ; and the 
only recollection I have about him after that is, that 
he was called, I think, the wickedest man in 
the neighborhood, so far as swearing and impiety 
■ went. I used to wonder how my sister could 
marry so profane a man as John Colby. I think 



414 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

she herself was very much shocked ; and I know 
her father was, who was a reUgious man. And 
still Colby was considered ' a good catch.' I came 
home from college during vacation, and used to 
hear of him occasionally ; but after a few years, 
— perhaps five or six years, — my sister died, and 
then, of course, all the interest that any of us had 
in John Colby pretty much ceased. I believe she 
left a child, — I think a daughter, — who grew up 
and was married, and also left a child. 

Now I will give you the reason why I am to-day 
going up to see this John Colby. I have been told 
by persons who know, that, within a few years, he 
has become a convert to the Christian rehgion, and 
has met with that mysterious change which we call 
a change of heart ; in other words, he has become a 
constant, praying Christian. This has given me 
a very strong desire to have a personal interview 
with him, and to hear with my own ears his account 
of this change. For, humanly speaking, I should 
have said that his was about as hopeless a case for 
conversion as I could well conceive. He won't 
know me, and I shall not know him ; and I don't 
intend to make myself known at first." 

We drove on, and reached the village, — a lit- 
tle, quiet place, one street running through it, a 
few houses scattered along here and there, with 
a country store, a tavern, and a post-office. As 
we drove into this quiet, peaceable little hamlet, 
at midday, with hardly a sign of life noticeable, 
Mr. Webster accosted a lad in the street, and asked 
where John Colby lived. 



KELIGIOUS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 415 

" That is John Colby's house," Scoid he, pointing 
to a very comfortable two-story house, with a green 
lawn running down to the road. We drove along 
towards it, and a little before we reached it, mak- 
ing our horse secure, we left the wagon and pro- 
ceeded to the house on foot. Instead of steps 
leading to it, there were little flagstones laid in 
front of the door ; and you could pass right into 
the house without having to step up. The door 
was open. There was no occasion to knock, be- 
cause, as we approached the door, the inmates 
of the room could see us. Sitting in the middle 
of that room was a striking figure, who proved to 
be John Colby. He sat facing the door, in a very 
comfortably furnished farm-house room, with a 
httle table, or what would perhaps be called a light- 
stand, before him. Upon it was a large, old-fash- 
ioned Scott's Family Bible, in very large print, 
and of course a heavy volume. It lay open and 
he had evidently been reading it attentively. As 
we entered, he took oE his spectacles and laid 
them upon the page of the book, and looked up 
at us as w^e approached, Mr. Webster in front. He 
was a man, I should think, over six feet in height, 
and he retained in a wonderful degree his erect 
and manly form, although he was eighty five or 
six years old. His frame was that of a once 
powerful, athletic man. His head was covered 
with very heavy, thick, bushy hair, and it was 
M'hite as wool, which added very much to the 
picturesqueness of his appearance. As I looked 
in at the door, I thought I never saw a more 



416 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

striking figure. He straightened himself up, but 
said nothing until just as we appeared at the door, 
when he greeted us with, — 

" Walk in, gentlemen." 

He then spoke to his grandchild to give us some 
chairs. The meeting was, I saw, a little awkward, 
and he looked very sharply at us, as much as to 
say, " You are here, but for what I don't know : 
make known your business." Mr. Webster's first 
salutation was, — 

"This is Mr. Colby, Mr. John Colby, is it 
not?" 

" That is my name, sir," was the reply. 

"I suppose you don't know me," said Mr. 
Webster. 

" No, sir, I don't know you ; and I should like 
to know how you know me." 

"I have seen you before, Mr. Colby," replied 
Mr. Webster. 

" Seen me before ! " said he ; " pray, when and 
where ? " 

" Have you no recollection of me ? " asked Mr. 
Webster. 

"No, sir, not the slightest; " and he looked by 
Mr. Webster toward me, as if trying to remember 
if he had seen me. Mr. Webster remarked, — 

" I think you never saw this gentleman before ; 
but you have seen me." 

Colby put the question again, when and where ? 

" You married my oldest sister," replied Mr. 
Webster, calling her by name. (I think it was 
Susannah.) 



RELIGIOUS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 417 

"' I married your oldest sister ! " exclaimed Col- 
by ; " who are you ? " 

" I am ' little Dan,' " was the reply. 

It certainly would be impossible to describe the 
expression of wonder, astonishment, and half-in- 
credulity that came over Colby's face. 

" You Daniel Webster ! " said he ; and he started 
to rise from his chair. As he did so, he stammered 
out some words of surprise. " Is it possible that 
this is the little black lad that used to ride the 
horse to water ? Well, I cannot realize it ! " 

Mr. Webster approached him. They embraced 
each other ; and both wept. 

" Is it possible," said Mr. Colby, when the em- 
barrassment of the first shock of recognition was 
past, " that you have come up here to see me ? Is 
this Daniel? Why, why," said he, "I cannot be- 
lieve my senses. Now, sit down. I am glad, oh, 
I am so glad to see you, Daniel ! I never expected 
to see you again. I don't know what to say. I am 
so glad," he went on, " that my life has been spared 
that I might see you. Why, Daniel, I read about 
you, and hear about you in all ways ; sometimes 
8ome members of the family come and tell us about 
you ; and the newspapers tell us a great deal about 
you, too. Your name seems to be constantly in the 
newspapers. They say that you are a great man, 
that you are a famous man ; and you can't tell how 
delighted I am when I hear such things. But, Daniel, 
the time is short, — you won't stay here long, — I 
want to ask you one important question. You may 
be a great man : are you a yood man ? Are you 



118 KEMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

a Christian man ? Do you love the Lord Jesus 
Christ? That is the only question that is worth 
asking or answering. Are you a Christian ? You 
know, Daniel, what I have been : I have been one 
of the wickedest of men. Your poor sister, who 
is now in heaven, knows that. But the spirit of 
Christ and of Almighty God has come down and 
plucked me as a brand from the everlasting burn- 
ing. I am here now, a monument to his grace. 
Oh, Daniel, I would not give what is contained 
within the covers of this book for all the honors 
that have been conferred upon men from the crea- 
tion of the world until now. For what good 
would it do ? It is all nothing, and less than noth- 
ing, if you are not a Christian, if you are not 
repentant. If you do not love the Lord Jesus 
Christ, in sincerity and truth, all your worldly 
honors will sink to utter nothingness. Are you a 
Christian ? Do you love Christ ? You have not 
answered me." 

All this was said in the most earnest and even 
vehement manner. 

" John Colby," replied Mr. Webster, " you have 
asked me a very important question, and one which 
.should not be answered lightly. I intend to give 
you an answer, and one that is truthful, or I won't 
give you any. I hope that I am a Christian. I 
profess to be a Christian. But, while I say that, 
I wish to add, — and I say it with shame and con- 
fusion of face, — that I am not such a Christian 
as I wish I were. I have lived in the world, sur- 
rounded by its honors and its temptations ; and ] 



RELIGIOUS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 419 

am afraid, John Colby, that I am not so good a 
Christian as I ought to be. I am afraid I have not 
yonr faith and your hopes ; but still, I hope and 
trust that I am a Christian, and that the same 
grace which has converted you, and made you an 
heir of salvation, will do the same for me. I trust 
it • and I also trust, John Colby, — and it won't be 
long before our summons will come, — that we shall 
meet in a better world, and meet those who have 
gone before us, whom we knew, and who trusted 
in that same divine, free grace. It won't be long. 
You cannot tell, John Colby, how much delight it 
gave me to hear of your conversion. The hearing 
of that is what has led me here to-day. I came here 
to see with my own eyes, and hear with my own 
ears the story from a man that I know and remem- 
ber well. What a wicked man you used to be ! " 

" Daniel ! " exclaimed John Colby, " you don't 
remember how wicked I was; how ungrateful I 
was ; how unthankful I was ! I never thought of 
God ; I never cared for God ; I was worse than 
the heathen. Living in a Christian land, with the 
light shining all around me, and the blessings of 
Sabbath teachings everywhere about me, I was 
worse than a heathen until I was arrested by the 
grace of Christ, and made to see my sinfulness, and 
to hear the voice of my Saviour. Now I am only 
waiting to go home to Him, and to meet your 
sainted sister, my poor wife. And T w^ish, Daniel, 
that you might be a prayerful dn^istian, and I 
trust you are. Daniel," he added, with deep earn- 
estness of voice, " will you pray with me ? " 



420 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

We knelt down, and Mr. AYebster offered a most 
touching and eloquent prayer. As soon as he had 
pronounced the " Amen," Mr. Colby followed in 
a most pathetic, stirring appeal to God. He prayed 
for the family, for me, and for everj^body. Then 
we rose ; and he seemed to feel a serene happi- 
ness in having thus joined his spirit with that of 
Mr. Webster in prayer. 

" Now," said he, " what can we give you ? I 
don't think we have any thing that we can give 

you." 

"Yes, you have," replied Mr. Webster; "you 
have something that is just what we want to eat." 

" What is that ? " asked Colby. 

" It is some bread and milk," said Mr. Webster. 
" I want a bowl of bread and milk for myself and 
ray friend." 

Very soon the table was set, and a white cloth 
spread over it; some nice bread was set upon it 
and some milk brought, and we sat down to the 
table and eat. Mr. Webster exclaimed afterward : 

" Didn't it taste good ? Didn't it taste like old 
tunes ? " 

The brothers-in-law soon took an affectionate 
leave of each other, and we left. Mr. Webster 
could hardly restrain his tears. When we got into 
the wagon he began to moralize. 

" I should like," said he, " to know what the 
enemies of religion would say to John Colby's 
conversion. There was a man as unlikely, hu- 
manly speaking, to become a Christian as any man 
I ever saw. He was reckless, heedless, impious; 



RELIGIOUS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 421 

never attended cliiircli, never experienced the 
good influence of associating with religious peoj)le. 
And here he has been living on in that reckless 
way until he has got to be an old man ; until a 
period of life when you naturally would not ex- 
pect his habits to change : and yet he has been 
brought into the condition in which we have seen 
him to-day, — a penitent, trusting, humble believer. 
Whatever people may say, nothing," added Mr. 
Webster, " can convince me that any thing short 
of the grace of Almighty God could make such a 
change as I, with my own eyes, have witnessed in 
the life of John Colby." 

When we got back to Franklin, in the evening, 
we met John Taylor at the door. Mr. Webster 
called out to liim : — 

" Well, John Taylor, miracles happen in these 
later days as well as in the days of old." 

" What now, squire ? " asked John Taylor. 

" Why, John Colby has become a Christian. 
If that is not a miracle, what is ? " 



CHAPTER XII. 

LAST DAYS AND DEATH. 

One of the causes wliicli, with little doubt, has- 
tened Mr. Webster's death, was the accident which 
befell him in the early part of May, 1852. He was 
one day driving from Marshfield to Plymouth with 
Mr. Lanman, his secretary. As the carriage was 
ascending a hill, the body of the vehicle fell, and 
they both were violently thrown out. Mr. Web- 
ster was thrown headlong, and involuntarily put 
out his hand to check the force of the blow ; and 
he fell upon his hand and badly crushed it. He 
was taken up and carried to a house near by, 
where he was carefully tended, until he was able 
to be safely removed to Marshfield. He had not 
recovered from this injury when he died. 

Mr. Webster told me something connected with 
this accident, which moved him so much that, as 
he related it, tears came into his eyes. In Kings- 
ton, the town in which Mr. Webster was thrown 
from his carriage, there lived an old gentleman 
named Joseph Holmes, — a peculiar, energetic man, 
of considerable wealth. He was popularly regarded 
as cold, solitary, and forbidding in disposition ; and, 
although Mr. Webster knew him, he had no liking 



LAST DAYS AND DEATH. 423 

or symp.'itliy for him. When Mr. Webster was 
taken up senseless, and carried into the house, the 
people round about, very much excited by the 
news of the accident, gathered in groups near 
the door ; and, while the physician was being 
waited for, some of them were admitted to the 
room where the wounded statesman lay. Mr. 
Webster suddenly recovered his consciousness, and 
looked about him. He knew some of the people, 
others he did not ; but the first person his eyes 
rested upon was old Joseph Holmes, who was lean- 
ing over his bed with an expression of intense anxiety 
and alarm. When fully restored to his senses, Mr. 
Webster said : — 

" Mr. Holmes, how do you do ? I am glad to 
see you." 

The tears rolled down the old man's cheeks, and 
he turned away, saying, — 

" Thank God, he is safe ! " 

Mr. Webster said that this incident moved him 
very much ; for, although Mr. Holmes was a politi- 
cal friend, they had no special acquaintance, and 
it had never occurred to him that " there were any 
tears in those eyes." 

The physician who was summoned to attend Mr. 
Webster on this occasion has made a record of a 
touching incident, showing alike Mr. Webster's 
strong sense of gratitude and his familiarity with 
the Scriptures. 

" I was called to him in great haste as a physi- 
cian," he says, " he (as the messenger represented) 
being thrown from his carriage and nearly dead. 



424 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

After making all necessary Inquiry, and he becom- 
ing more comfortable, the crowd dispersed and left 
me alone with him and his private secretary. 

" While I was dressing the womid on his fore- 
head, which was much contused and somewhat lac- 
erated, Mrs . D., the lady of the house, entered the 
door of the chamber and passed to the opposite 
side of the room, with seeming awe, as if fearing to 
approach. Mr. Webster, casting his eyes on the 
woman as she passed, said : — 

" ' Madam, how very diversified is the lot of 
humanity in this our world ! A certain man, pass- 
ing from Jerusalem to Jericho, fell among thieves 
and was ill-treated. A man, passing from Marsh- 
field to Pljmiouth, fell among a very hospitable set 
of people and was taken care of.' 

" Behold the picture ! here lay the mighty man, 
— his physical powers but just recovering from a 
shock which on any other subject would proba- 
bly have suspended them for ever, scarcely awake 
as yet to things about him ; his consciousness of 
outward life rising, like the rising beams of a sum- 
mer's morning, calm and majestic, his first utter- 
ance the teachings of the blessed Jesus! These 
teachings and precepts of his Divine Master he 
applies to himself, as still a passing pilgrim of 
earth, — ' a man passing from Jerusalem to 
Jericho.* 

'^ No man could see this picture as I saw it, 
without the assurance that, although ' all that is 
mortal of Daniel Webster is no more for ever,' 
he ' still lives,' not only in the hearts of his country- 



LAST DAYS AND DEATH. 425 

men by his counsels of wisdom, but that ' mortcahty 
(with him) is swallowed up of life.' " 

Early in July, 1852, not long after the sitting of 
the Whig National Convention at Baltimore, which, 
passing Mr. Webster by, saw fit to nominate General 
Scott for the Presidency, I accompanied him from 
Washington to Boston. He said to me, one 
day: — 

" We will go this evening as far as Baltimore. 
That will make the journey easier, by taking a 
little off this end ; and then we will take the train, 
when it comes up from Washington in the morning." 

As the weather was very warm, we did as Mr. 
Webster proposed. At Baltimore we repaired to 
the hotel, and occupied the same room, which had 
two beds in it. Before going to bed, which he did 
quite early, he took some kind of a wash (perhaps 
bay rum) from his trunk, and bathed his limbs. 
Meanwhile, I sat by, reading. It seemed to me 
that his legs looked somewhat swollen, especially 
the left one ; nor did he appear to attempt to con- 
ceal the fact from me. He saw that I noticed it, 
and gave his head a significant nod, as much as to 
say, " You see." I went up to him and said : — 

" Mr. Webster, your leg is swollen." 

" Yes," he replied. 

" Were you aware of it ? " asked I. 

" Yes." 

" Well," said I, " it alarms me : does any physi- 
cian know it? " 

"No; that," he replied, ^.'' is the enemy: don't 
for the world name this to any human being. I 



426 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

would not like to have my family distressed by 
such a revelation. It can do no good ; and it will 
come to their knowledge quite soon enough. So, 
say nothing on that subject." 

I made no mention of it. That was the first 
knowledge I had of his trouble ; nor did I even 
then fully comprehend the magnitude of the diffi- 
culty. He returned to Marshfield, went to Boston 
again, and then back to Washington, on business 
connected with the department, he being then 
Secretary of State. Remaining there a few days, 
he returned to Boston, and went to Marshfield 
again. There were by this time unmistakable evi- 
dences of the progress of the disease in his sys- 
tem. He could no longer conceal it from others, 
and he did not attempt to do so. He consulted 
Dr. Porter, a respectable country physician, one of 
his neighbors. Dr. Porter advised him to visit Bos- 
ton and consult physicians here. He followed this 
counsel, and came to Boston. As it was the sum- 
mer season, many people were away from the city, 
with their families. Instead of going to a hotel, 
he brought a servant or two with him, and went to 
the house of his son, Fletcher Webster, on Cedar 
Street. My house was on the corner of West Cedar 
and Chestnut Streets, so near to his son's house 
that we could speak across to each other. My 
own family were out of town, and I was not stop- 
ping at my house. On his arrival, he sent me a 
message, informing me where he was, and I at once 
went to him, before going out of town to where 
my family was stopping. He told me that he had 



LAST DATS AND DEATH. 427 

come to Boston to stay ten or twenty days, as the 
case might be, for medical advice, and should send 
that day to Dr. Jeffries, who lived near by in Cedar 
Street, and consult him in regard to his disease. 
He did so, and I met Dr. Jeffries there wh*!n I 
called the next day. On the second day after his 
arrival at Fletcher's I received a note from him, 
saying that he would like to have me call, if I 
could conveniently do so, as he was going home to 
Marshfield the next morning. I was surprised on 
receiving such a note, because I supposed he was 
going to stay long enough to see if he could be 
benefited by skilled medical treatment. I went to 
see him in the evening, and he told me that the 
cause of his return to Marshfield was, that Colonel 
Perkins had that day sent him a note proposing to 
make him a visit at Marshfield the next day ; not 
knowing, of course, that he was not there. 

" I could not bear," said he, " to say to him that 
I was not at home, and thus lose his visit. He is an 
old, valued, and trusted friend of many years ; I 
have invited him many times to visit me at Marsh- 
field, but he has never done so ; he has now found 
time and inclination to come, and I want to see 
him at Marshfield. I have sent to Mr. Foster to 
let me have an easy carriage, and to drive me 
home." 

I could not but remark the great thoughtfulness 
which this betrayed on his part for the comfort 
and pleasure of others, by putting himself to this 
great pain and inconvenience. That was the last 
time he was ever in Boston. I do not recollect the 



428 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

exact day of the month, but it was about the mid- 
dle of September. He returned to Marshfield too 
much exhausted and ill to see his guests that 
night : they had got there by rail before him. He 
was obliged to go immediately to his chamber. 
From that time he began to fail quite perceptibly 
from day to day ; but he still continued about his 
business, keeping up his correspondence through 
the agency of his secretary, dictating important des- 
patches, and carrying on the business of the State 
department from that sick and dying chamber. 
Sometime during the week or fortnight after that, 
T visited him again at Marshfield. It was on a Sat- 
urday. He was then confined to his chamber, and 
was under the care and treatment of the doctors. 
Dr. Jeffries had visited him several times, and was 
in consultation with Dr. Porter, who went to him 
daily. When Sunday morning came he said to 
me, — 

" I wish you to drive to church with Mrs. 
Webster." 

" I shall do so with great pleasure," I replied. 

I mentioned his wish to Mrs. Webster. She said 
she had no heart to go. So we stayed at home, 
and I informed Mr. Webster of our decision. 

" Well, then, my friend," said he, " I wish you 
and Mr. Paige to go up to the tomb." 

Mr. Paige was the only other person in the house, 
except myself and Mrs. Webster. Mr. Webster had 
just completed a tomb in a lot which he had set 
apart and deeded to the town as a bui'ying-place 
for ever. 



LAST DAYS AND DEATH. 429 

Only a few days before he requested iiie to go 
with Mr. Paige to the tomb, he had had the remains 
of his family, which had been interred beneath Saint 
Paul's Church, removed and deposited in this new 
resting-place : they were of his first wife, her child 
and grandchild, — " all kindred blood," as he ex- 
pressed it. 

Mr. "Webster was lying in bed when he asked me 
to go there. 

" Wait until the sun is a little up," said he, " and 
then walk up and see what you think of it." 

Mr. Paige and I accordingly walked, sadly 
enough, across the field, about half a mile, to 
the site of the tomb ; and, after looking at it. 
we returned. 

When I reached the door, after perhaps an 
hour's absence, Mrs. Webster met me, and said 
that Mr. Webster was promising himself to come 
dowa and dine with us. 

" He cannot do so," she said ; " he is not able ; 
I pray that he may not. But he seems to be set 
upon it. I wish that, without saying that I have 
asked it, you would try and persuade him not to 
make the attempt; for I am afraid it will hurt 
him to come down." 

When I went into his bed-room, he was very 
cheerful ; he inquired about the weather, whether 
I had seen the tomb, and how I liked it. I re-plied 
that the fence had been put up, and every thing 
was as it should be. Then he said, sadly : — 

" It will get more occupants soon." He hastily 
turned the subject, and remarked : — 



430 REMINISCP:NCES of DANIEL WEBSTEli. 

'^I have been studying natural history, since 
you went away. Here are these httle leeches : to 
see them you would say, What can such creatures 
as those be made for? But when they are applied, 
and have dug as they have at me, five or six of 
them, for two hours, to extract this vitiated blood, 
you see then what the purpose of the Almighty 
was in making them. Nothing is made in vain," 
he added, earnestly. " Every thing of that sort, 
to the thoughtful mind, makes one realize the 
goodness of God to his creatures. He has made 
every thing to contribute to the happiness and well- 
being of his creatures. By the way, did you see 
the sheep on the side of the hill, as you came 
along ? " 

" Yes," I replied, " and a very handsome flock 
it is." 

Mr. Webster, as I have said, was very fond of 
.sheep. 

" Well," remarked he, " I suppose they are car- 
rying their heads up pretty high now ; " and he 
laughed. " They begin to think, I suppose," he 
went on, " that nobody in Marshfield can eat mut- 
ton ; but one of these days, friend Harvey, we 
Asill make them laugh out of the other side of 
their mouths. We will make them sing a differ- 
ent song." 

Then, speaking of the cook, he added : — 

" Monica is roasting as nice a leg of mutton as 
was ever put upon a man's table. It was ripe 
to-day. It is the ninth day since it was slaugh- 
tered, and it has hung in a place where it has kept 



LAST DAYS AND DEATH. 431 

all its juices, and arrived at just the right condition. 
I have ordered it to be cooked. Friend, it is for 
your dinner ; and I am going down to dine with 
you to-day oft" that mutton." 

" It would give us great pleasure to see you 
down to dinner," said 1 ; " but I suppose you are 
joking." 

" I never was more in earnest in my life — 
never," he answered. 

" But," said I, " pray, Mr. Webster, wouldn't it 
be injurious to you? Wouldn't you suffer from 
such an effort?" 

" I am coming to dine with you to-day, suffer 
or no suffer." 

I saw there was nothing further to be said. By 
that time it was one o'clock, or quarter past. 

"I will excuse you," said he, "and ask you to 
call Wilham Bean." 

Bean, the valet, was called, and began the pro- 
cess of shaving and dressing his master. I left 
the room, and went down and told Mrs. Webster 
that persuasion in that quarter w^as useless ; that 
he had made up his mind to try it. I think that 
Bean was two hours in making him ready. He 
shaved him, bathed him, and dressed him. As the 
time for dinner approached, — three o'clock wan 
the hour for the Sunday dinner, — Mrs. Webster 
left the library where Mr. Paige and myself were, 
went to his room, and came back and reported. 

" He is making a desperate effort to come," she 
said ; " I dread his doing so, but there is nothing to 
be said." 



432 RERTIXISCENCIES OF I^JANIEL WKBSTKH. 

At fifteen or twenty minutes before three, the 
library door being ajar, I heard a movement, which 
soon became a tramping down the broad stair- 
way into the hall. I immediately left my seat 
and went into what was called the music-room, 
towards the stairs. Just there I met him. He 
was leaning heavily on Bean's arm ; and it was 
then that the full force and gravity of his sick 
ness struck my eye ; for when in bed he did not 
seem seHously ill. He was dressed as carefully 
and elegantly as I ever saw him : he was always 
very particular about his dress. He had on a blue 
coat, buff vest, black pantaloons, white cravat, and 
collar turned down. He passed through the door 
of the music-room, connecting it with the hall. 
As soon as he saw me enter from the other side 
of the room, he stopped, straightened up to his full 
height, and paused. One of his beautiful smiles 
came over his face, and he said : — 

" Now, William, I will dispense with you ; you 
can leave me." 

I immediately approached, when he took both 
my hands, and kissed me on the cheek. 

" Now, then, if you will give me your arm, we 
will proceed," said he. 

He took my arm, and, at a very slow and deliber- 
ate pace, we crossed the music-room and entered the 
library, which was a large and elegant apartment. 
There was a little fire in the grate. Meanwhile, 
Mrs. Webster, in her thoughtful attention, believ- 
ing that he would find himself unable to sit at the 
table, had put a pillow on the very broad sofa. 



LAST DAYS AND DEATH. 433 

movei back the library chair from where it usually 
stood, and claused the sofa to be put in its place. 
As we came along to the sofa, she said, — 

" Here is a pillow for you, my dear, to lie down." 

He straightened up, looked at the pillow, and 
then at me. 

" I don't want any pillow," he said ; " I came 
down here to dine, not to go to bed. I came down 
here to dine with my friends." Speaking to the 
servant, he added, " Roll back the sofa ; replace 
the chair." 

The chair was a large library, morocco chair. 
His order was obeyed. To get into the chair he 
had to turn around ; and, leaning heavily upon my 
arm until he got quite opposite, he sank heavily 
into it, and leaned his head back, completely 
exhausted, — without, apparently, having strength 
enough to reach his hand out to mine. He 
pointed to the end of the sofa, and I sat down ; 
he then held his hand out, and I grasped it. He 
said nothing for perhaps a minute. Then he looked 
at his wife, at Mr. Paige, and at me. He closed his 
eyes, and threw his head back ; then he looked at 
us again 

" This, said he, " is better than all the medicine 
of all the doctors, — the countenances of one's 
friends ! What is so consoling ? What can give 
such comfort to a sick man as the countenances 
of his friends ? " 

He ceased speaking. We sat in silence. Just 
then the servant came in and announced to Mrs. 
Webster that dinner was ready. I immediately 

28 



434 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

rose, as did Mr. Webster and Mr. Paige. We 
stood around him, ready to assist him to the table. 
He looked again from one to the other, as if a 
little irresolute. At last, with a very bland smile, 
he turned to Mr. Paige, calling him, I think, by 
his Christian name. 

" Willie," said he, " will you take my place at 
the dinner ? " He turned to me and added, — 

" My friend, will you hand Mrs. Webster to the 
dinner table ? I will not go just now ; I will come 
in a few minutes ; but do you go." 

Mrs. Webster took my arm, and we went to the 
dinner table, with sad, heavy feelings. Not a 
word was uttered ; we could say nothing. Soup 
was passed, merely tasted, and put aside. The 
mutton, though quite as good as he had described 
it, was scarcely touched. 

I had not been seated long at table when Bean 
came to me, and said that Mr. Webster wished to 
talk with me. I ■ accordingly went to him, as he 
lay on the sofa ; and then ensued the conversation, 
which I have given in a previous chapter, about 
the nomination of Scott, the destiny of the Whig 
party, and the character of General Pierce. 

Between seven and eight o'clock the doctor came, 
and Mrs. Webster appeared at the door to tell her 
husband of his arrival. 

"No, no," said Mr. Webster, "not yet; I must 
have this conversation out ; " and he locked the 
door. 

" Now," he went on, " for a few personal mat- 
ters. You are going in the morning, and very 



LAST DAYS AND DEATH. 435 

likely I shall never have another opportunity to 
speak of them. You know that I have received a 
large fee lately [that in the Goodyear case], and 
have applied it to the payment of my debts. If 1 
conld get two more such, I could die free of debt. 
It has been my constant aim and wish to pay my 
debts. They are not very large." 

This was quite true. He had reduced them very 
much in the previous five years. 

"Then," he added, "I should like to provide 
something for my family, and not leave them to 
the cold charity of the world. But Providence 
guides and overrules ; I cannot help it, and there- 
fore I submit to it. I should very much have pre- 
ferred to have my widow dependent upon no one 
for her support, after my decease. She is a mem- 
ber of a wealthy family, and has connections not 
only by reason of her marriage with me, but in 
her father's family ; so that she will be able to live 
without being indebted to any one, — not, per- 
haps, in the style that she has hitherto lived, or 
that I desire that she should. But she is not ex- 
travagant ; she is frugal and careful. Then there 
is Mr. Appleton, the husband of my poor Julia 
who has gone to heaven, and who has left him 
with four children ; he is a man of fortune, and I 
need therefore have no anxiety for their future, 
so far as money is concerned : I leave them with- 
out any regrets on that score. Now I come to 
Fletcher. When I think of poor Fletcher and his 
family, my heart bleeds. He has not been success- 
ful. He has much talent, but he does not seem to 



486 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

have the knack of getting along in the world and 
making money. I wish that I could feel that he 
and his family were provided for ; but that is out 
of the question. All I can say to you is, that I 
am quite sure that my friends will not see my own 
son driven to the necessity of begging his bread. 
There I must leave it, in the hands of an all-wise 
God ; and through His providence I shaD trust 
that Fletcher will be taken care of." 

It was now nearly nine o'clock. There was 
some commotion outside, and Mrs. Webster was 
evidently worried about his undertaking so long 
a conversation. 

" Give yourself no uneasiness," he said to her : 
" I have sought this conversation ; and whether it 
makes me worse or not, it has relieved me. Now, 
you [speaking to me] must go to-morrow morning 
early; but come and see me again just as soon as 
you can." 

"I will come right down," I replied, "just as 
soon as my business arrangements will permit." 

" People will inquire of you what my bodily con- 
dition is. I do not wish to mislead or lie to any- 
body, nor have you do it ; still, I do not want to 
be the subject of newspaper comment as to my 
health. Now, if you will assist me into the other 
room [a little room where he wrote his letters], I 
will dictate a letter to the President of the United 
States before I retire." 

He sat down at the table, took his pen, and with 
a very significant look began to write ; putting, 
perhaps, the date upon the letter. 



LAST DAYS AND DEATH. 437 

"' Now you can say," he remarked, " and it will 
be true, that you saw Mr. Webster, the Sunday 
night before you left him, writing at his table. 
You can say that truly, can you not ? It will be 
an answer, and save me from annoyance." 

lie then dictated a brief letter to President 
Fillmore. 

That Sabbath evening was a melancholy one, 
succeeding a sad day. It was one of the last occa- 
sions on which he sat up ; but he was as anxious as 
ever for the comfort of his guests. He attended to 
every little thing, as though each was a matter of 
importance. He insisted that every one should 
do promptly what belonged to him to do. It was 
curious to observe his particularity in this respect. 
We had talked a great deal during the day, and 
the time came for him to retire. Calling his black 
servant, William Bean, he asked him, — 
" Is Porter Wright in the kitchen ? " 
" No, sir," replied William, " he has gone back 
to his house." 

" Tell Baker to come here.'* 
When he came, Mr. Webster said : — 
"Baker, go down to Porter Wright's, and tell 
him that I want to see him in about five minutes ; 
and tell Monica to come here." 

Monica came in, and he said to her : — 
'• Monica, Mr. Harvey is going home to-morrow 
morning. I don't want him to go without the best 
breakfast he ever had ; and you know how to give 
it to him." 

'' I do, indeed, Mr. Webster." 



438 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

" To-morrow morning, Monica, have the table 
spread, and a little fire built in the dining-room. 
Let me see. In the first place, give him the best 
cup of coffee you can ; then, some toast ; broil a 
steak; give him a bit of ham, and a boiled egg. 
Bake a potato; and put them all on the table 
smoking hot, precisely at half-past five by the 
Shrewsbury clock." 

" It shall all be done just as you say, sir." 

" And you, William, to-morrow morning at ex- 
actly five o'clock, — right on the moment, — take 
a cup of shaving- water to Mr. Harvey's room ; and 
knock on the door till you get an answer, if you 
have to pound your knuckles off. And when Mr. 
Harvey gives you an answer, set down the shaving- 
water, and ask him for his clothes. Take them out, 
and give them a good brushing. Porter Wright 
[who had just come in], Mr. Harvey is going to 
the depot to-morrow morning. Have the horses 
harnessed and the carriage at the door at six 
o'clock, to a minute. Have it at the library 
door, and the coachman on the box ; put ' Tren- 
ton ' and ' Morgan ' into Mrs. Webster's light 
carriage." 

" Now," said he, turning to me, " I will take 
your arm, and go upstairs." 

He leaned heavily on my arm, and went up to 
his room. We took an affectionate leave of each 
other, and the next morning I left Marshfield for 
Boston. 

It was not long after this, when his life was 
lapidly drawing to a close, that he one day called 



LAST DAYS AND DEATH. 43 li 

Mr. Hatch, one of his men, into his sick room. 
When he came in, Mr. Webster said : — 

'' Mr. Hatch, who is now in the room ? " 

" No one but Wilham," was the reply. 

*' Very well ; William will tell no tales. I have 
a secret for you. I want you to go, as soon as it 
is dark, and hang a lantern at the mast-head of ray 
little shallop behind the house, and raise the colors. 
Be sure and keep that light burning every night 
as long as I live. Don't fail to do this. I want to 
keep my flag flying and my light burning till I 
die." 

This little pleasure-boat was very dear to Mr. 
Webster, because it once belonged to his beloved 
son Edward. From the window of his sick room, 
as he lay in bed, he could see the hght at the mast- 
head. He ordered it to be put up secretly, that the 
sight of it might give his family an agreeable sur- 
prise when they saw it for the first time glimmer- 
ing in the darkness. 

When Mrs. Webster came into the room that 
evening, he asked her if she could see the ducks 
in the pond. On going to the window, she was 
astonished to observe the lantern at the mast-head. 
On the very last day that he went downstairs 
from his chamber, — when he insisted on being 
helped down by his friends, — he put on his hat, 
and looked out on this sheet of water behind the 
house. There had been an autumnal gale the night 
before. He looked out, and cried cheerfully, — 

" Halloo ! I perceive that the home squadron 
has outridden the gale ! " 



440 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

He then returned to his room. 

A week or ten days before he died, he insisted 
on having the cattle driven up the lane in front of 
the house ; and he gazed on them with as much 
delight as a child on his playthings. He wished 
them to be girted, which was done by his farmer. 
Mr. Webster made guesses as to how much they 
would measure, and watched the operation with 
the liveliest interest. 

I did not see Mr. Webster again, after the Sun- 
day interview which I have given, until two weeks 
after, on the Saturday previous to his death. I had 
been to Vermont on business connected with the 
railway of which I was then treasurer ; and had 
received daily bulletins, which Mr. Webster asked 
his secretary to send to me, as to the condition 
of his health. These bulletins made no men- 
tion of any marked change. In one of them 
there was a little encouragement. He said that 
the swelling of the abdomen had decreased, and 
this was regarded by the doctors as a favorable 
symptom. Otherwise, he remained about the same. 
I returned to Boston on Friday morning, and then 
received news of a sudden and serious turn in his 
disease. He had begun to vomit blood, which was 
an indication of a speedy termination of life. I 
started the next morning for Marshfield. When 
I arrived there, Mr. Webster was surrounded by 
his family ; or rather, they were in the house, but 
not in his room. No one was then admitted to see 
him except his doctor. Mrs. Webster was in great 
distress ; his life had become a question of hours. I 



LAST DAYS AND DEATH. 441 

had been telegraphed to come, and Mr. Jackson 
had been down to meet me two or three times. Of 
course all hope was over. I met Fletcher, who 
seemed much gratified that I had come. 

I found Mr. Webster at times suffering terribly 
from his fits of vomiting blood ; at other times he 
was calm and free from pain. Dr. Jeffries, his at- 
tending physician, and Dr. Porter, had intimated 
that, unless he had some important communication 
to make concerning his affairs, it would not be well 
that he should see any one, as talking would only 
make hun worse, and increase his sufferings. 
Fletcher said : — 

"I want Mr. Harvey to see my father ; he does 
not know he is here." 

" You can do as you please," replied Dr. Jeffries ; 
" I have forbidden everybody." 

I said to Fletcher that there were others who 
should see him, especially his relatives ; and that 
while I, of course, was anxious to see his father if 
it could be allowed, I had no desire to go to him 
in an invidious manner. 

" You must see him," said Fletcher: " he is 
anxious to see you." 

Being thus urged, I could no longer refuse to go 
in. Tie day was rapidly wearing away, and night 
was coming on. Dr. Mason Warren, who had been 
sent for, was expected every moment. We were 
all gathered very near the door of Mr. Webster's 
room, sitting on the stairs. Fletcher passed in and 
out, bringing news of his condition. In a few mo- 
ments he came and whispered to me, — 



442 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

" Now you must go in and see father. He is 
lying perfectly free from pain ; and he looks like 
a king." 

" Does he know I am here ? " I asked. 

" No ; and I do not wish him to know, until you 
yourself tell him." 

" I would rather not go in," said I " until the 
doctor permits it." 

Fletcher then asked the doctor if there was any 
objection. He replied that he would no longer 
object, and that probably Mr. Webster would not 
now be disturbed by my going in. I then followed 
Fletcher to the door, and went in. The room was 
not laro;e : and as soon as I entered, Mr. Webster 
could see me, for the candles were burning brightly. 
As soon as he saw me, he exclaimed in a very dis- 
tinct voice : — 

" Why, is it possible that this is you ? I thought 
you would come. Come to me." 

I at once passed across the room, very much 
touched, and weeping. When I reached the bed- 
side, he held out both hands, and put his arms 
around my neck and kissed me. Then he said : 

" Kiss me." 

" It is distressing to see you suffering so, Mr. 
Webster," I said, " and so ill." 

"I am not so ill but that I know you. I am 
sick, but I am not too sick to call down blessings 
on you, faithful friend, — true in life, true in 
death. I shall be dead to-morrow," he added, 
softly. 

" Do not leave this room until I am gone. 



LAST DAYS AND DEATH. 44 



o 



Promise me that you will not." He reached out 
his arms to me, and again kissed me. 

" God bless you, faithful friend ! " he said ; re- 
peating the words several times. 

He still kept his arms around my neck. His 
hands, as he continued to hold me close to him, 
felt as cold as ice. It was a sad, sad moment. A 
few moments later I perceived that some one was 
gently removing his hands from me. It was the 
doctor. I left the bed-side. Those who had been 
w^aiting on the stairs came into the room, — Mr. 
and Mrs. Paige, Mr. George Curtis, Mr. Appleton. 
and others. 

" Don't, don't leave me ! " said Mr. Webster, im- 
ploringly, as I drew away from him. " You prom- 
ised that you w^ould not leave the room until I was 
dead." 

" I shall keep my promise," I replied. 

Mr. Webster then took a loving leave of those 
who had come in, shook hands with them all, and 
called them by name. After this agitating scene, 
the doctor thousrht it best that Mr. Webster should 
try to get some sleep, and asked those who had 
come in to leave the room. All retired, excepi 
myself. A few moments after. Dr. Warren came. 
Mr. Webster was very glad to see him, and said to 
him that he had taken the liberty to send for him. 
It was, he said, the last night that he should trouble 
any one on earth. He then inquired for the elder 
Dr. Warren, and sent a friendly message to him. 

After this, he lay apparently comfortable for an 
hour, or an hour and a half. They were constantly 



444 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

giving him opiates till his last moment. He lin- 
gered on some hours into the night, and as the 
clock struck two, Daniel Webster quietly passed 
away from earth. 

I wish to add to this account of my illustrious 
friend's last hours that which Dr. Jeffries gave, 
soon after Mr. Webster's death, at a meeting of the 
Southern District Medical Society at New Bedford. 
On this occasion Dr. Jeffries said : — 

" After the injury which Mr. Webster received 
by a fall from his carriage, he went to Boston, and 
was under my professional care for several days 
previous to his address in Faneuil Hall. I had 
visited him two or three times daily, and had re- 
duced his diet below his usual mode of living, in 
consequence of inflammation in his arm. On the 
day of his address, I visited him twice in the morn- 
ing, and dressed his arm particularly for the occa- 
sion. After dressing it I said : ' I have kept you 
very low, sir, for some time ; and as you have an 
arduous duty to perform to-day, I think I shall 
advise you to take a glass of wine at dinner, and 
to eat a little meat.' 

" He was walking across the room at this time, 
when he stopped, and, turning towards me, replied 
in a familiar but decided manner, — 

" ' I don't know. Doctor ; I think I shall not. I 
have found the benefit of temperance. I shall 
take a cup of soup, retire to my chamber and lie 
down for two hours ; then I shall dress and be 
ready for his Honor the Mayor when he calls to 
attend me to Faneuil Hall.' 



LAST DAYS AND DEATH. 446 

'' At his request I went with him to the Hall, and 
am fully convinced that he had not on that day, or 
for some days preceding, taken even the smallest 
amount of stimulating drinks. I admit that Mr. 
Webster was in the occasional use of wine, and 
sometimes of other alchoholic drinks, and gave as a 
probable reason that it was much more the custom 
in Washington than in this city ; but I confidently 
express the opinion that no man can be produced, 
who can show that he knows, — although many 
might erroneously presume, as in the instance 
above referred to, — that his great intellect was 
ever clouded by stimulants ; or that he was un- 
fitted at any time, even for the production of 
State papers. 

" At the time of his reception by the City, Mr. 
Webster appeared to possess his full intellectual 
strength. In reply to an apprehension expressed 
by me that morning, he said : — 

" ' I feel as able now to make a speech of two 
hours' duration as ever I did in my life.' 

" But he was laboring under great physical debil- 
ity, requiring the constant assistance of an attend- 
ant about his person. This was dispensed with, by 
a great effort on his part, as was also a sling for 
his arm, because he did not wish to appear before 
his fellow-citizens as a sick man. 

" I have always found Mr. Webster perfectly obe- 
dient as a patient, especially in following strictly 
the diet and regimen prescribed for him. 

" The nature of the complaints for which I have 
attended him has required that these restrictions 



446 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

should be sometimes severe, and on one important 
occasion were directly opposed to his own view of 
his case ; but he nevertheless yielded implicitly to 
my instructions. 

" In his last sickness he required the most exact 
admeasurement of such stimulants as were thought 
advisable, and would take none without my express 
directions. 

" I am also assured that he always practised the 
greatest self-denial whenever especially called upon 
for the exertion of his intellectual powers. The 
mighty productions of his pen exhibit the clear- 
ness of his intellect as much as the profoundness 
of his thought. The most rigid casuist may be de- 
fied to point to one line in his voluminous works 
which indicated the weakness of the inebriate." 

At a late hour upon the night of his death, Mr. 
Webster remarked to Dr. Jeffries that he had better 
lie down and get some rest. Dr. Jeffries, knowing 
the character of the man, suggested that he should 
read a hymn which was supposed to be a favorite 
of Mr. Webster. Mr. Webster having made an 
intimation in the affirmative, Dr. Jeffries read the 
following hymn : — 

There is a fountain filled ■with blood 

Drawn from Immanuel's veins ; 
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, 

Lose all their guilty stains. 

The dying thief rejoiced to see 

That fountain in his day ; 
And there may I, though vile as he, 

Wash all my sins away. 



LAST DAYS AND DEATH. 447 

Ihnv dying Lamb ! thy precious blood 

Should never lose its power, 
Till all the ransomed Chui-ch of God 

Are saved, to sin no more. 

Since first by faith I saw the stream 

Thy flowing wounds supply, 
Redeeming love has been my theme, 

And shall be till I die. 

And when this feeble, stammering tongue 

Lies silent in the grave. 
Then in a nobler, sweeter song, 

I'll sing Thy power to save. 

After Dr. Jeffries had finished reading this hymn, 
Mr. Webster, in a clear, strong voice, rephed, 
" Amen, amen, amen ! " 

According to miiversal custom in the town of 
Marshfield, on the Sabbath of Mr. Webster's death, 
between the hours of seven and eio-ht o'clock in the 
morning, the bell of the parish church was rung 
violently, to announce to the startled inhabitants 
within hearino^ that a death had occurred amono* 
them. Then it was struck three times three as a 
signal that a male person had died. Next, the 
bell was struck slowly and deliberately seventy 
strokes, to denote the age of the dead ; and 
then there went up a mournful voice from every 
house, " It must be that Daniel Webster is dead," 
— " The pride of our nation has fallen," " Our great 
neighbor and townsman is no more." 

The spot where Daniel Webster reposes is upon 
elevated land, and overlooks the sea, his mammoth 



448 REMINISCENCES OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

farm, the First Parish Church, and most of the 
town of Marshfield, — wide-spreading marshes, for- 
ests remote and near, the tranquil river, and glisten- 
ing brooks. On a pleasant day the sands of Cape 
Cod can be descried from it, thirty miles directly to 
the east, where the Pilgrims first moored their ship. 
The spot is perfectly retired and quiet, nothing be- 
ing usually heard but the solemn dirge of the ocean 
and the answering sighs of the winds. It is the 
spot of all others for his resting place. 



APPENDIX. 



THE BURNHAM STATUE OF WEBSTER. 

It is not inappropriate to the purpose of this volume 
to describe the remarkable and munificent testimonial 
offered by a citizen of New York to the fame of Daniel 
Webster, and to the reverence for his great intellect 
and the affection for his manly virtues which have kept 
his memory green. It was, indeed, the particular wish 
of Mr. Harvey that the memorable proceedings and 
addresses at New York, on the 25th of November, 1876, 
should be included in this work. He was present on 
the occasion, and he repeatedly expressed the hope that 
this crowning ceremonial in honor of his illustrious friend 
might have a place in his volume of Reminiscences. 

Mr. Gordon Webster Burnhajm, a gentleman of 
large wealth and of artistic tastes, having an exalted 
veneration for Mr. Webster's character, tendered to the 
New York department of public parks, in 1874, a statue 
of the statesman, to be erected in Central Park. The 
following is the letter in which this offer was made : — 

Henry G. Stebbins, Esq., President of the Department of 
Public Parks. 
Dear Sm : In accordance with the suggestions heretofore 
made in conversation with 3'our predecessor, Mr. Wales, and 
\ourself, I respectfully offer for the Central Park a bronze 
jsliitue of Daniel Webster, of colossal size, with an appro- 

29 



450 APPENDIX. 

priate granite pedestal, the whole work to be executed b}- the 
best artist in a manner altogether worthy the grandeur of the 
subject and the conspicuous position it is designed to occupy 
at the lower entrance to the Mall. 

This position, proposed by Mr. President Wales, and 
cordially approved by yourself and other gentlemen of no 
less excellent taste and judgment, will exactly suit my pur- 
pose in devoting so large a sum of money as will be required 
to adorn the Park, and to honor the merc.ory of one of 
America's noblest sons ; whose patriotic eloquence, devoted 
to the defence of her institutions during his hfe, will continue 
to animate and inspire to the latest time that sentiment of 
" Libert}' and Union, now and for ever, one and inseparable," 
which has saved the Nation, and will continue to protect it. 

I trust that my offer to place this statue on the site pro- 
posed will meet the speedy acceptance of 3-our Department, 
in order that the work may be duly completed by the Fourth 
of July, 1876, — the Centennial of American Independence. 

I have the honor to be, with great respect, 

Your obedient servant, 

Gordon W. Burnham. 
No. 128 Fifth Ave., New York, 
July 25, 1874. 

Some opposition was at first raised to this project ; 
but the proposed gift was so munificent, and the appro- 
priateness of a statue of America's greatest statesman 
in America's noblest pleasure ground was so evident, 
that opposition was soon silenced, and Mr. Burnham's 
gift was accepted by the City. 

The unveiling of the statue took place, in Central 
Park, on Saturday the 25th of November, 1876, — a 
date memorable in the Revolutionary annals of New 
York, — before a large concourse of people. The fol- 
lowing description of this stately specimen of the sculpt- 
ural art is taken from the "New York Times" of the 
next day : — 



APPENDIX. 451 

" The centre of attraction was the statue itself, which tow- 
ered above the throng with an imposing grace, which might 
apt!}- be compared with the prominence of its distinguished 
protot3'pe among his fellows. It is, indeed, a noble work of 
art, and one well worthy of commemorating the fame of the 
gi-eat champion of the Constitution. Upon a massive granite 
pedestal, ornamented at the side with Corinthian columns 
imbedded in stone, rises a magnificent bronze effigy of Web- 
ster, of heroic size. The figiu-e is attired in the old-fashioned 
di-ess coat of thirty years ago, with the right arm thrust in 
the folds, and the left hanging naturally at the side. Behind 
the figure the trunk of a tree is represented, partially covered 
by a cloak. The expression upon the countenance is one 
of commanding firmness, shghtly tinged with sadness, and 
beneath all an intense mental power, which, together, form 
a happy reflex of Webster's prevaihng spii'it. Upon the 
front of the polished granite pedestal is the inscription, taken 
from the redoubtable reply to Hayne : ' Libert}' and Union, 
Now and Forever, One and Inseparable ; ' on the reverse are 
the words: 'Presented by Gordon W. Bukniiam, July IV., 
MDCCCLXXVI.' The statue is the work of Mr. Thomas 
Ball, and was modelled at Florence and cast in Munich. Its 
height is fourteen feet, and its weight six tons. The pedestal 
weighs over one hundred tons, and is twenty feet in height.'' 

The ceremony of inauguration took place at two 
o'clock. On the platform, among other distinguished 
persons, were Gordon W. Buiinham, the donor, Mayor 
WiCKHAM, Hon. William M. Evarts, Hon. Robert 
C. WiNTHROP, Ex-Governor E. D. Morgan, Gover- 
nor Ingersoll, of Connecticut, Lieutenant-Governor 
Knight, of Massachusetts, Hon. Peter Harvey, 
District-Attorney Phelps, and William R. Martin, 
President of the Department of Parks. The assembly 
was called to order by President Martin, who spoke aa 
follows : — 



452 APPENDIX. 

" To-day, in the chief city of his country, we place on a 
pedestal of gi-anite, standing on the basic rock, the statue of 
the man whose learning and eloquence did so much to estab- 
lish the principles of the Constitution on enduring founda- 
tions, — did so much to fix in every heart that love for and 
faith in the Union which, like love and faith always, in the 
crisis, were our salvation. 

" Surmounting all discord of interests and opinions, through 
the blood of the Revolution, a century ago, our fathers laid 
the foundations of the RepubUc. 

"In the middle of the century these foundations were 
opened, fundamental principles were agitated anew, were 
resettled, and planted in the hearts of the people. In our 
day, they have survived the severest tests to which Liberty 
and Union could have been subjected. They have proved 
the strongest of all the forces, natural and moral, by which 
we are suiTOunded. 

"Through this course of our history there was room, 
there was need, for a man — for many men, but for one 
supremely eminent — for the duty of standing between the 
past and the future, between the two wars, — the first suc- 
cessfiil to build up, the second faiUng to overthrow ; need 
of a man with heart large enough to embrace all, mind large 
enough to comprehend all, and, upon all principles and all 
duties of our pride and our hopes, to build the temple and 
within it the altar of the country, before which all hearts are 
one and all discordant interests disappear. 

" It is the noble acts of such a man that we to-day com- 
memorate." 

Mr. GoEDON W. BuRNHAM was then introduced, 
and thus addressed the Mayor : — 

"Mr. Mayor: Having always been a great admirer of 
Mr. "Webster, and having a strong desire that something 
should be done to perpetuate his memorj', I have caused this 
statue to be erected, which I trust may be as enduiing as his 



APPENDIX. 453 

fame, and the gi'auite upon which it stands. I now have the 
pleasure, through you, of presenting this statue of Daniel 
Webster, with its pedestal, to the city of New York. I com- 
mit it to your guardianship, trusting that it may be faithfully 
cared for and protected in all time to come." 

The statue was then unveiled by Thomas Brownell 
BuRNHAM, the donor's youngest son, amid loud cheers. 

Mayor Wickham, in accepting the gift, said : — 

" Mr. Burnham and Gentlemen : The cit}' of New York 
accepts this statue with many acknowledgments for the munifi- 
cence and pubUc spirit which are shown now, not for the first 
time, by the donor, and with profound regard and reverence for 
the remarkable man whose features and figure it so admirably 
reproduces. The time is well chosen for reminding the peo- 
ple of all these United States, as this image does, of the 
gr(^atness of the intellect and resources of Daniel Webster, 
and of the glorious use to which he put them in the pubhc 
service. In the midst of the confusion made by contending 
p.irties, who struggle now for power in the Republic, this 
monument to the most illustrious of the sons of New Eng- 
land is eloquent of the moderation, the wisdom, and the 
abounding patriotism of his counsels, which helped to guide 
■the country through so many dangers now happily passed. 
And, in the new perils to which constitutional government is 
to-day exposed, to turn the thoughts of men again to the 
great exjiounder of the Constitution himself, as these im- 
pressive proceedings will turn them, cannot but be productive 
of good influences. The cit}'' will guard and keep this noble 
gift with watchful care, that generations yet to come may 
learn the lessons taught by Webster." 

President Martin then introduced Hon. William M 
EvARTS, who delivered the following Address : — ' 



4 54 APPENDIX. 

" Mr. Mayor and Ffxlow-citizens : I congratulate you, 
Mr. Burnham, upon the prosperous execution of a noble pur- 
pose. You did me the honor, in meditating this grand gift tc 
the city and to the country, to ask my concun-ence in this 
munificent act. I know that it proceeded, in your intention, 
from nothing but admiration of Mr. Webster, because he was 
a gi-eat servant of his countr}', and from j'our patriotism, that 
desired to perpetuate his influence in a form that should be as 
enduring and as eloquent as any preservation of his memory 
to his countr^anen could possibly be. I congratulate you, 
Mr. Mayor, and the city of New York, for the gi-ateful and 
graceful performance of a duty now for the second and third 
time of receiving noble monuments to the fame of great citi- 
zens of this couutr}', and the acceptance of permanent and 
impressive decorations of our pubUc places. And 3'ou, fellow- 
citizens, I congratulate upon the benignant sky and the genial 
air that in these last da^'s of November, so apt to be the 
saddest of the year, have for this occasion given us the 
brightness and the joy of opening Spring. I congratulate 
you more deepl3% that 3'ou and your children, from generation 
to generation, are here to renew the lessons of patriotism and 
of duty which Mr. Webster in his lifetime taught so wisely" and 
so well. I congratulate 3'Ou upon this evidence that public 
spirit does not fail in a Repubhc. It has been the reproach of 
equal society that it bred selfishness, and it has been a maxim 
that munificence belonged to kings and to nobles, and that 
splendor and elegance and magnificence flowed downward, 
and could never be the gi'owth of an equal societ3' ; but our 
Mstor3' has in this, as in so man3' other things, falsified these 
maxims of our race. Where mil you find wider and better, 
more numerous or more noble, instances of charit3', of public 
spirit, and of contributions to the public taste and public 
enjo3Tnent, than this RepubUc of ours presents ever3^here? 
And where will 3'Ou find in other lands instances worthy to be 
recorded with this of Mr. Burnham, where a single citizen, 
doing his share as one of the people, for the good of the nation, 
has made and planned as great and noble a gift? 



APPENDIX. 455 

*'Mr. Mayor, on this occasion we find no need of dis- 
tinct eulogy. "V^^loevcr speaks to any of our countr}Tnen 
of Mr. Webster, of his hfe, of his public senices, of liis 
genius, and of his fame, can tell them nothing new, nor 
can he hope to enlarge or deepen their admiring homage 
which attended him through a whole generation in his Ufe- 
time, and in the quarter of a century that has passed since 
his death has hallowed his memor}-. Nor, were it otherwise, 
would any thing but the briefest commemoration and the 
simplest eulogy befit the occasion. This noble restoration of 
his imposing presence, and the solemn echo which arises in 
every mind, of the last words which passed his hps, ' I still 
live ! ' — these speak to us to-day ; and all other oratory is 
superfluous. There he stands, as he stood for a whole life- 
time of assured fame, in tlie full blaze of a whole people's 
attention, crowned by his Maker with glory and honor — as he 
stood in the courts, in the Senate, in the popular assemblies, 
at the helm of State, amid the crowds that followed his steps 
in every pubhc concourse. And 3'et I could not but ^ield, 
Mr. Burnhara, to 3'our request that I should share with Mr. 
Webster's friend, and our friend, Mr. Winthrop, in bringing 
to attention some of the principal traits of Mr. Webster's char 
acter, some of the prominent instances of his gi-eat pubhc 
services. 

" My first knowledge of Mr. Webster, in the way of per- 
sonal association with him, occurred just as I was lea\ing 
college, and he, in 1837, was making that remarkable prog- 
ress from the Capitol at Washington to his home in the East, 
on which his steps were delayed in ever}- cit}' by the instant 
demands of the people that they should see him and that 
he should speak to them. I had, as a school-boy in Boston, 
been famihar with his person as that of the principal citizen 
of that place, but in after hfe it came to be my fortune to be 
associated with him in pubhc relations only during the last 
few years of his hfe. I can bear testimony that, without 
arrogance, yet full of dignity, he never sought to enhance, but 
always to lessen, the imposing influence which his mien and 



456 APPENDIX. 

his fame impressed on every one. The kinclKness of Ms man 
ner and his affectionate attention to every claim made upon 
his duty or his favor, none who knew him will ever forget ; 
and if my voice now can for a moment recall more nearly 
than the general recollection of his countrymen might do, 
what was great and valuable in his character and in his pubUc 
service, it is an office both of affection and duty that I should 
so do. 

" No one brings to his thoughts the life of Mr. Webster 
without instantl}^ dwelUng upon the three principal gi-eat 
departments of highest influence in which he moved, and 
where he showed his power, and shed in a shower of benefi- 
cence upon his countrymen and their institutions the great 
effulgence of his intellect and the warmth of his patriotism. 
I mean, of course, as a lawyer, as a statesman, and as an 
orator. No doubt, in the histor}- of the country, names can 
be recalled which, considered singly and simply in relation to 
what makes up the character and authority of the law^'er, 
may compete with or may surpass Mr. Webster. No one 
can di\ade with Chief Justice Marshall the immense power of 
judicial penetration which he maintained through a life length- 
ened beyond eighty 3'ears ; and eminent men of learning, of 
weight, of authority with the profession and with the pubhc, 
may be named that at least occupy, in the simple character 
of lawj'ers, for learning and judgment, as elevated a place as 
Mr. Webster. But I am quite sure that there is not, in the 
general judgment of the profession, nor in the conforming opin- 
ion of his countr^onen, any lawyer that, in the magnitude of 
his causes, in the greatness of their pubhc character, in the 
immensity of their influence upon the fortunes of the country, 
or in the authority which his manner of forensic eloquence 
produced in courts and over courts, can be placed in the same 
rank with Mr. Webster. As a statesman, we must include 
in our mention as well the character and the part of the party 
leader, as that of the guide and guardian of the pubUc inter- 
ests in the more elevated plane of the councils of the country. 
And in this, whatever we may say of the great men who, at 



f^T 



APPENDIX. 45 

the biiiih of the Nation and in the framing of the Constitution, 
and then, with Uves prolonged, attending the first steps of 
the progress of the new-born Nation, estabhslied their own 
fame and contributed to the greatness and the safety of the 
country, we shall find no man in our generation — no man 
coming down to our generation from that preceding one — 
who has held such a share of influence in the popular 
assembhes, in the counsels of the pail}', in the State or 
in the Senate, or in the discharge of the duties of a Minis- 
ter of State, who can at all contest with Mr. "Webster the 
pre-eminent position of the statesman of the whole country, 
for the whole countrj', and in results which the whole country 
has felt. And then, when we come to oratory, he combined 
the intellectual, the moral, and the personal traits which make 
up that power in the Nation, which gave to one Grecian above 
all others of his countr^inen — Pericles — the title of Olym- 
pian. Who so much in our time and in our Nation has com- 
bined all those traits so often severed as Mr. Webster? 
Whether he lifted his voice, mirum spargens sonum, in the 
court, or in the Senate, or at the hustings, or in the oratory 
of pubhc occasions, and to select audiences, he spoke as one 
ha^'ing authority' with his people ; and that authority was 
always recognized and always obej-ed. 

To these three recognized and famihar departments of his 
pre-eminence we must add a fourth, — his clear title in the 
sphere of Uterature to be held as one of the greatest authors 
and writers of our mother tongue that America has produced. 
We all recognize the great distinction in this regard of Burke 
and of Macaulay. In the flow of thek eloquence as writers, 
and in the splendors of then- diction, Mr. Webster did not 
approach them, nor would he have desired to imitate them. 
But I propose to the most competent critics of the Nation, 
that they can find nowhere six octavo volumes of printed 
literary production of an American, that contains as much 
noble and as much beautiful imagery, as much warmth of 
rhetoric, and of magnetic impression upon the reader, as are 
to be found in the collected writings and speeches of Danie' 
Webster. 



458 APPENDIX. 

"But, fellow-citizens, as a citizen and as a patriot, Mr. 
Webster was gi-eatest in the opinion of his countrymen in his 
life, and greatest in the judgment of posterity since his 
death. "What are all those mere gifts of intellect, however 
vast; what these advantages of person, of education, of 
position, and of power in the country, if then- possessor fails 
or falls short in his devotion to his countr}^ and in his ser- 
vice to the State ? And he that will look thi-ough the preserved, 
recorded evidence of Mr. Webster's life will see at once that, 
from his youth to his death, he was as full of pubUc spirit 
and as full of pubUc labors, as if his Ufe had not been busy 
and important in its private, professional, and personal re- 
lations. He served the State, and labored for and loved it 
from boyhood up. He withheld no service, he shrunk from 
no labor, he di'ew no nice distinctions as to opportunities or 
occasions. Whenever a word was to be spoken, and could be 
usefully spoken, to the American people, in the lecture-room, 
on the anniversary occasion, in the public assembhes, in the 
cities and in the countrj^ on exciu'sions and progresses through 
large stretches of our tenitory, North and South, East and 
West, always on an elevated stage, and in a conspicuous 
cause, he gave his gi'eat powers to this service of the people. 

"What could exceed the breadth and generosit}- of his 
\4ews, the comprehensiveness, the nationaUtj', of his rela- 
tions to the people ! Born in the North-eastern corner of 
New England, the North-eastern corner of the countr}', 
seated for the practice of his profession and for his domes- 
tic life in the city of Boston, on the very outside rim of 
our countrj-'s territory, — I defy any one to find, from the 
moment he left his pi-o\iucial college at Daitmouth, to the 
time that he was buried on the shore of Marshfield, a time 
when that great heart did not beat, and that gi-eat intellect 
did not work for the service equally of all the American 
people. North and South, East and West. We do not find 
all the great men of this country thus large and hberal in the 
comprehension of thek pubhc spirit, thus constant and warm 
in the exercise of patriotic feehng. I cannot even allude to 



APPENDIX. 459 

the immense and the frequent public services that Mr. Webster 
performed ; but I have this to say, that I would rather that 
the men and the youth of this country should read the perora- 
tion of Mr. "Webster's speech in reply to Hayne, and the pero- 
ration of his speech for the country and its peace on the 7th 
of March, 1850, than any equal passages in all the text-books 
and all the oratory of our pohtics from the time he died until 
now. I would Uke to have anybody that has been instructed by 
the last twenty-five years see if he could portray the ev-ils, the 
weaknesses, the woes of nuUification under the Constitution, 
the wretchedness and the falsity of the claims and schemes 
of peaceful secession, better than Webster could do and did 
do in advance. I would hke to see one touch of art, one 
word of eloquence, one proof or reason that can be added 
under this stern teaching of a quarter of a centmy, that is 
not found in those great speeches now. His countrymen 
questioned him, his countr^ynnen mahgned him ; but it was his 
countr}' that he loved, and he would not curse it for anybod^-'s 
cursing him. 

" On Boston Common, in July, 1852, just before his death, 
when he stood in the face of Boston people, whom he had 
sen-ed for thirty j-ears, he used these words : ' My manner 
of political hfe is known to you all. I leave it to my country, 
to posterity, and to the world to see whether it will or will 
not stand the test of time and trath.' Twentj'-five 3'ears of 
our history has shed a flood of light upon the past, and em- 
blazoned anew the records of Mr. Webster's pubUc hfe. I 
shall not rehearse them, but I say this to 3'ou, and I challenge 
contradiction, that from the beginning to the end that record 
is true to the gi'eat principle that presided over the birth of the 
Nation, and found voice in the Declaration of Independence ; 
that was wrought into the very fabric of the Constitution ; thai 
carried us, with unmutilated territory, and undefiled Constitu 
tion, and unbroken authorit}' of the Government, through the 
sacrifices and the terrors and the woes of civil war ; that will 
sustain us through all the heats and agues which attend the 
e'-yeps of the Nation to perfect health and strength. The 



460 APPENDIX. 

great principle embossed in enduring granite on this pedestal, 
and from the time it was announced from those eloquent lips, 
is firmly fixed in the consciences and hearts of this people ; 
' Liberty and union, now and for ever, one and inseparable.' 
The gi-eat names of our Revolutionary history, — the signers 
of the Declaration of Independence, the framers of the Con- 
stitution, the wise men who, surviving from that generation, 
confirmed the progress of the country under its Constitution 
and its new hberties, — no American will allow their fame to 
be disparaged or divided ; and of the men that followed them 
up to your time, how many do you owe great obhgations to? 
How much to Clay and Adams ? How much to Jackson and 
Wright? How much to Seward and Chase, and all their con- 
temporaries ? But if I were to name two men whose services 
were incomparably above that of all others in making this 
new experiment of free government and of paper constitutions 
a living power to a gi-eat and strenuous nation ; two that could 
not have been spared though all others remained, — I should 
say that to the gi-eat Chief Justice Marshall, and to the great 
foi-ensic, popular, parUamentary defender and expounder of 
the Constitution, Daniel Webster, we most owe what we now 
enjoy. Who shall deny to him the title, ' of our constituted 
liberties the greatest defender ' ? 

" And now, what shall we say of this great man in the per- 
sonal and private traits of his character? I should say of 
Mr. Webster that, if there were one single trait conspicuous 
in him and pre-eminent as compared with others who have 
made for themselves great names in history, it would be the 
abundant charity of his nature. He never assumed for him- 
self in private intercourse, or in pubUc speech, any superiority. 
He never tolerated in his presence, and he never practised, 
either evil speech or evil surmise. His frown followed even 
their casual introduction about the table and in pubUc dis- 
cussions, and he never tolerated any confusion between intel- 
lectual dissection of an argument and moral inculpation of the 
reasoner. I do not know that one should question ambition, 
for it is the pubhc passion by which gi-eat public talents are 



APPENDIX. 461 

made useful to a people. But I will say of Mr. Webster, that 
he seemed to me never to have an}- ambition but that which 
is an inseparable part of the possession of great powers of 
public usefulness, but that which is sanctioned by the injunc- 
tion that great talents are not to be buried in the earth, and 
by the requirement that the Ught which God has given that it 
should shine before men is to be placed on a candlestick. 

"And now within the narrower circle, not ill-represented 
here in the crowd before me, and on this stand, of those who en- 
joyed close and friendly intercourse with Mr. Webster ; who 
knew, better than the world knew, the greatness of his powers 
and the nobleness of his nature, — shall we be guilty of any 
disrespect to the hving, shall it not be pardoned to affection, 
if we sa}' that the associations with those who survive seem to 
us but httle, compared with the memory of him whose friend- 
ship we remember, and whose fame we rehearse ? ' Eheu ! 
quanto minus cum reliquis versari, quam tui meminisse.' " 



The Hon. Robert C. Westthrop, of Boston, was 
then introduced. He spoke as follows : — 

" I am here, Mr. Maj-or, fellow-countrymen and friends, 
with no purpose of trespassing very long on your attention. 
I was doubtful almost to the last moment whether I should 
be able to be here at all to-day, and I am afraid that I have 
neither voice nor strength for many words in the open air. 

" But, indeed, the Addi-ess of this occasion has been made. 
It has been made b}' one to whom it was most appropriately 
assigned, and who had ever}' title and every talent for mak- 
ing it. It was pecuharl}' fit that this grand gift to youi 
magnificent Park should be acknowledged and welcomed by 
a citizen of New York, — one of whom j'ou are all justly 
proud, an eminent advocate and jurist, a distinguished 
statesman and public speaker, with the laurels of the Cen- 
tennial oration at Philadelphia still fresh on his brow. The 
utterances of this hour might well have ended with him. 



462 APPENDIX. 

"I could not, however, find it in my heart to refuse alto- 
gether the repeated and urgent request of your munilicent 
fellow-citizen, Mr. Burnliam, that I would be here on the 
platform with Mr. Evarts and himself, to-day, to witness the 
unveiUng of this noble statue, and to add a few words in com- 
memoration of him whom it so vividly and so impressively 
portrays. 

"Mr. Burnham has done me the honor to call me to his 
assistance on this occasion, as one who had enjoj-ed some 
pecuhar opportunities for knowing the illustrious statesman to 
whose memorj' he is pajing these large and sumptuous hon- 
ors. And it is true, my friends, that my personal associations 
with Mr. Webster reach back to a distant day. I recall him 
as a familiar visitor in the homes of more than one of those 
with whom I was most nearly connected, when I was but a 
schoolboy, on his first removal to Boston, in 1817. I recall 
the deep impressions produced on all who heard him, and 
communicated to all who did not hear him, b}' his great efforts 
in the Constitutional Convention of Massachusetts, and, soon 
afterward, by his noble discourse at Plymouth Rock, in 1820. 
I was m^-self in the crowd which gazed at him, and Ustened to 
him with admiration, when he laid the corner-stone of the 
Monument on Bunker Hill, in presence of Lafa^'ette, in 1824. 
I was myself in the throng which hung with rapture on his 
lips as he pronounced that splendid eulogy on Adams and 
Jefferson, in Faneuil Hall, in 1826. Entering his office as a 
law student in 1828, I was under his personal tuition during 
three of the busiest and proudest years of his life. From 
1840 to 1850, I was associated with him in the Congress of 
the United States ; and I may be pardoned for not forgetting 
that it was then my privilege and my pride to succeed him 
in the Senate, when he was last called into the Cabinet, as 
Secretary of State, by President Fillmore. 

" I have thus no excuse, my friends, for not knowing some- 
thing, for not knowing much, of Daniel Webster. Of those 
■who knew him longer or better than I did, few, certainly, 
remain among the living ; and I could hardly have recon- 



APPENDIX. 463 

ciled it with what is due to his memory, or with what is 
due to my own position, if I had refused, — I will not say to 
bear testimony to his wonderful powers and his great public 
services, for all such testimony would be as superfluous as to 
bear testimony to the light of the sun in the skies above 
us, — but, if I had declined to give expression to the gratifi- 
cation and delight with which the sons of New England and 
the sons of Massachusetts, and of Boston especially, and I, 
as one of them, cannot fail to regard this most signal com- 
memoration of one, whose name and fame were so long and 
so pecuUarly dear to them. 

"Neither Mr. Evarts nor I have come here to-day, my 
friends, to hold up Mr. Webster, — much as we may have 
achnired or loved him, — as one with whom we have always 
agi-eed, as one whose com-se we have unifomily approved, or 
in whose career we have seen nothing to regret. Our testi- 
mony is all the more trustworthy — my own certainly is — 
that we have sometimes differed from him. But we are here 
to recognize him as one of the greatest men our country has 
ever produced ; as one of the grandest figures in our whole 
national histor}' ; as one who, for intellectual power, had no 
superior, and hardl}' an equal, in our own land or in any other 
land, during his day and generation; as one whose written 
and spoken words, so fitly embalmed "for a Ufe beyond life " 
in the six noble volumes edited by Edward Everett, are 
among the choicest treasures of our language and literature ; 
and, still more and above all, as one who rendered inestimable 
services to his country, — at one period, vindicating its 
rights and preserving its peace with foreign nations by the 
most skilful and masterly diplomac}' ; at another period, 
rescuing its Constitution from overthrow, and repelling 
triumphantly the assaults of nullification and disunion, by 
overpowering argiunent and matchless eloquence. 

" JVir. Webster made many mar\^ellous manifestations of 
himself in his busy Ufe of three-score years and ten. Con- 
vincing arguments in the courts of law, brilliant appeals 
to popular assemblies, triumphant speeches in the Halls of 



464 APPENDIX. 

Legislation, magnificent orations and discourses of commem 
oration or ceremony, — are thickl}' scattered along his whole 
career. I rejoice to remember how many of them I have 
heard from his own lips, and how much inspiration and 
instruction I have derived from them. To have seen and 
heard him on one of his field days, was a privilege which no 
one will undervalue who ever enjoj'ed it. There was a power, 
a breadth, a beauty, a perfection, in some of his efforts, when 
he was at his best, which distanced all approach and rendered 
rivalry ridiculous. 

" And if the style and tone and temper of our political dis- 
cussions are to be once more elevated, refined, and purified, 
— and we aU know how much room there is for elevation 
and refinement, — we must go back for our examples and 
models, at least as far as the daj-s of that great Senato- 
rial Trimnvirate, — Clay, Calhoim, and Webster. There 
were giants in those daj'S ; but none of them forgot that, 
though ' it is excellent to have a giant's strength, it is tyran- 
nous to use it like a giant.' 

" Among those who have been celebrated as orators or pub- 
lic speakers, in our own days or in other days, there have been 
many diversities of gifts, and many diversities of operations. 
There have been those who were listened to wholly for their 
intellectual qualities, for the wit or the wisdom, the learning or 
the philosophy, which characterized their eflbrts. There have 
been those whose main attraction was a curious felicity and 
faciUty of illustration and description, adorned by the richest 
gems which could be gathered b}^ historical research or clas- 
sical study. There have been those to whom the charms of 
manner and the graces of elocution and the melody of 
voice were the all-sufficient recommendations to attention 
and applause. And there have been those who owed their 
success more to opportunity' and occasion, to some stirring 
theme or some exciting emergency, than to any peculiar 
attributes of their own. But Webster combined every thing. 
No thoughts more profound and weighty. No st3'le more 
terse and telling. No illustrations more vivid and clear-cut. 



APPENDIX. 4G5 

No occasions more august and momentous. No voice move 
deep and thrilling. No manner more impressive and admij-- 
able. No presence so grand and majestic, as bis. 

" That great brain of his, as I have seen it working, whether 
in public debate or in private converse, seemed to me often 
like some mighty machine, — alwaj's ready for action, and 
almost always in action, evolving much material from its own 
resources and researches, and eagerly appropriating and as- 
similating whatever was brought within its reach, producing 
and reproducing the richest fabrics with the ease and certainty, 
^lie precision and the condensing energy, of a perfect Corliss 
engine, — such an one as many of us have just seen presiding 
so magically and so majestically over the Exposition at 
Pniiadelphia. 

''And he put his own crown-stamp on almost every thing 
he uttered. There was no mistaking one of Webstei-'s great 
efforts. There is no mistaking them now. They will be dis- 
tinguished, in aU time to come, like pieces of old gold or 
silver plate, by an unmistakable mint-mark. He knew, like 
the casters or forgers of yonder Statue, not only how to pour 
forth burning words and blazing thoughts, but so to blend and 
fuse and weld together his facts and figures, his illustrations 
and arguments, his metaphors and subject-matter, as to bring 
them all out at last into one massive and enduiing image of 
his own great mind ! 

" He was by no means wanting in labor and stud}' ; and he 
often anticipated the earliest dawn in his preparations for an 
immediate effort. I remember how humorousl}' he told me 
once, that the cocks in his own yard often mistook his morn- 
ing candle for the break of day, and began to crow lustily as 
he entered his office, though it were two hours before sunrise. 
Yet he frequently did wonderful things ofl'-hand ; and one 
might often say of him, in the words of an old poet, — 

" ' His noble negligences teach 
What others' toils despau* to reach.' 

*' Not in our own land, only. Mi*. Mayor and fellow ca.mtiy' 

30 



466 APPENDIX. 

men, were the pre-eminent powers of Mr. Webster recognized 
and appreciated. Brougham, and L^-ndhurst, and the late 
Lord Derb}', as I had abundant opportunit}' of knowing, were 
no undeiTaters of his intellectual grasp and grandeur. I re- 
member well, too, the casual testimony of a venerable prelate 
of the English Church, — the late Dr. Harcourt, then Arch- 
bishop of York, — who said to me thirty years ago in London : 
' I met 3'our wonderful friend, Mr. Webster, for only five 
minutes ; but in those five minutes I learned more of Ameri- 
can institutions, and of the peculiar working of the American 
Constitution, than in all that I had ever heard or read from 
any or all other sources.' 

"Of his Discourse on the Second Centennial Anniversary r^f 
the Landing of the Pilgrims on Plj^mouth Rock, John Adams 
wrote, in acknowledging a copy of it : ' Mr. Burke is no 
longer entitled to the praise of being the most consummate 
orator of modern times.' And, certainly, from the date of 
that Discourse, he stood second, as an Orator, to no one who 
spoke the English language. But it is peculiarly and pre- 
eminentl}' as the Expounder and Defender of the Constitution 
of the United States, in January, 1830, that he will be re- 
membered and honored as long as that Constitution shall 
hold a place in the American heart, or a place on the pages 
of the world's history. 

" Mr. Webster once said, — and perhaps more than once, — 
that there was not an article, a section, a clause, a phrase, a 
word, a syllable, or even a comma, of that Constitution, 
which he had not studied and pondered in every relation and 
in every construction of which it was susceptible. 

" Born at the commencement of the year 1782, at the Acry 
moment when the necessity of such an Instnnnent for pre- 
serving our Union, and making us a Nation, was first begin- 
nmg to be comprehended and felt by the patriots who had 
achieved our Independence, — just as they had fully discov- 
ered the utter insufficiency of the old Confederation, and how 
mere a rope of sand it was ; born in that ver^' year in which 
the Legislature of your own State of New York, under the 



APPENDIX. 467 

lead of yom- gallant Philip Schuyler, at the prompting of 
your grand Alexander Hamilton, was adopting the very fu'st 
resolutions passed by any State in favor of such an lustru- 
ment, — it might almost be said that the natal air of the 
Constitution was his own natal air. He drank in its spirit 
with his earliest breath, and seemed born to comprehend, 
expound, and defend it. No Roman schoolboy- ever com- 
mitted to memor}' the laws of the Twelve Tables more dili- 
gently and thoroughly than did he the Constitution of his 
country. He had it by heart in more senses of the words 
than one, and every part and particle of it seemed only less 
precious and sacred to him than his Bible. 

"John Adams himself was not more trulj^ the Colossus of 
Independence in the Continental Congress of 1776, than 
Daniel Webster was the Colossus of the Constitution and the 
Union in the Federal Congi-ess of 1830. 

"For other speeches, of other men, it might perhaps be 
claimed, that they have had the power to inflame and pre- 
cipitate war, — foreign war or civil war. Of Webster's gi-eat 
speech, as a Senator of Massachusetts, in 1830 — and of that 
alone, I think — it can be said, that it averted and postjjoned 
Civil War for a whole generation. Yes, it repressed the 
irrepressible conflict itself for thirty years ! And when that 
dire calamity came upon us at last, though the voice of the 
master had so long been hushed, that speech still supplied 
the most convincing argimients and the most inspiring incite- 
ments for a resolute defence of the Union. It is not yet 
exhausted. There is argument and inspu'ation enough in it 
still, if only they be heeded, to carry us along, as a United 
People, at least for another Century. In that Speech ' he 
still lives ; ' and Uves for the Constitution and the Union of 
his Country. 

"Why, my friends, not even the Dynamite and Rend-rock 
and Vulcan powder of your scientific and gallant Newton 
were more eflfective in blasting and shattering 3-our Hell-Gate 
reef, and opening the way for the safe navigation of yonder 
Ba}', than that speech of Webster was in exploding the doc- 



468 APPENDIX. 

h'ines of nullification, and clearing the channel for our Ship 
of State to sail on safety, prosperously, triumphant^, whether 
in sunshine or in storm ! 

"Beyond all comparison, it was the Speech of our Consti- 
tutional Age. ' Nil simile aiit secundum.'' It was James 
Madison, of Virginia, himself, who said of it in a letter at 
the time : ' It crushes nullification, and must hasten au 
abandonment of secession.' Whatever remained to be done, 
in the progress of events, for the repression of menacing 
designs or of overt acts, was grandly done by the resolute 
patriotism and iron will of President Jackson, whose procla- 
mation and policy, to that end, Mr. Webster sustained with 
aU his might. The}" were the legitimate conclusions of his 
own great Argument. 

' ' Of other and later efl^orts of Mr. Webster I have neither 
time nor inclination to speak. There are too manj' coals still 
burning beneath the smouldering embers of some of his more 
recent controversies, for any one to rake them rashl}' open on 
such an occasion as this. I was by no means in full accord 
with his memorable 7th of March speech, and my views of it 
to-day are precisely what he knew they were in 1850. But 
no differences of opinion on that da^', or on any other day, ever 
impaired mj admii'ation of his powers, my confidence in his 
patriotism, my earnest wishes for his promotion, nor the full 
assurance which I felt that he would administer the Govern- 
ment with perfect integrit}^, as well as with consummate 
abihty. "What a President he would have made for a Cen- 
tennial Year ! What a tower of strength he would have been, 
to our Constitution and our Country, in all the perplexities 
and perils through which we have recently passed, and are 
still passing ! ' Oh ! for an hour of Dundee ! ' 

" No one will pretend that he was free from all infirmi- 
ties of character and conduct, though they have often been 
gi'ossly exaggerated. Great temptations proverbially beset 
the pathwa}" of great powers ; and one who can overcome 
almost every thing else may sometimes fail of conquering 
himself. He never assumed to be faultless ; and he would 



APPENDIX. 469 

have indiguantl}' rebuked any one who assaraed it for him. 
We all know that, while he could master the great ques- 
tions of National Finance, and was never weary in main- 
taining the importance of upholding the National Credit, he 
never cared quite enough about his own finances, or took 
particular pains to preserve his own personal credit. We all 
know that he was sometimes impatient of difTerences, and 
ftometunes arrogant and overbearing toward opponents. His 
own consciousness of surpassing powers, and the flatteries 
— I had almost said, the idolatries — of innumerable friends, 
would account for much more of all this than he ever dis- 
pla^'ed. I have known him in all his moods. I have expe- 
rienced the pain of his frown, as well as the charms of his 
favor. And I will acknowledge that I had rather confront 
him as he is here, to-daj' , in bronze, than encounter his oppo- 
sition in the flesh. His antagonism was tremendous. 
' Safest he who stood aloof.' But his better nature always 
asserted itself in the end. No man or woman or child could 
be more tender and aflfectionate. 

' ' And there is one element of his character which must 
never be forgotten. I mean his deep religious faith and trust. 
I recall the delight with which he often conversed on the 
Bible. I recall the delight with which he dwelt on that 
exquisite prayer of one of the old Prophets, repeating it fer- 
vently as a model of eloquence and of devotion : ' Although 
the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the 
vines ; the labor of the olive shall fail, and the field shall yield 
no meat ; the flock shall be cut oflT from the fold, and there 
shall be no herd in the stalls : yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I 
will joy in the God of my salvation.' I recall his impressive 
and powerful plea for the Religious Instruction of the Young, 
in the memorable case of Girard College. I have been with 
him on the most solemn occasions, in Boston and at Wash- 
ington, in the midst of the most exciting and painful contro- 
versies, kneeling by his side at the table of our common 
Master, and witnessing the humility and reverence of his 
worship. And who has forgotten those last words which he 



470 APPENDIX. 

ordered to be inscribed, and wMch are inscribed, on hii 
tombstone at Marshfield : — 

'"Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief.' Philosophical Argu- 
ment, especially that drawn from the vastness ot the universe, in com 
parison with the apparent insignificance of this globe, has sometimes 
shaken my reason for the faith which is in me ; but my heart has alwaj's 
assured and re-assured me that the Gospel of Jesus Christ must be a 
Divine Reality. The Sermon on the Mount cannot be a merely human 
production. This belief enters into the very depth of my conscience. 
The whole history of man proves it. — Daniel Webster. 

"I cannot help wishing that this declaration, in all its 
original fulness, were engraved on one of the sides of j'onder 
monumental base, in letters which all the world might read. 
Amid all the perplexities which modern Science, intentionally 
or unintentionall}' , is multipl3ang and magnifpng around us, 
what consolation and strength must ever be found in such an 
expression of faith from that surpassing intellect ! 

"I congi-atulate you, my friends, that your Park is to be 
permanently adorned with this grand figure, and that the 
inscription on its massive pedestal is to associate it for ever 
with the great principle of ' Union and Liberty, one and 
inseparable.' Nor can I conclude without saving, that, from 
all I have ever known of Mr. Webster's feelings, nothing 
could have gratified him so much as that, in this Centennial 
Year, on this memorable Anniversary, nearly a quarter of a 
century after he had gone to his rest, — when all the partiali- 
ties and prejudices, all the love and the hate, which wait upon 
the career of h^ing pubUc men, should have grown cold or 
passed awa}', — a Statue of himself should be set up here, 
within the hmits of j-our magnificent City, and amid these 
superb surroundings. Quite apart from those personal and 
domestic ties which rendered New York so dear to him, — of 
which we have a touching reminder in the presence of the 
venerable lady who was so long the sharer of his name and 
the ornament of his home, — quite apart from all such con- 
siderations, he would have appreciated such a tribute as this, 
I think, above all other posthumous honors. 



APPENDIX. 471 

•* There was something congenial to him in the gi-aucleur 
of this great Commercial Metropolis. He loved, indeed, the 
hills and plains of New Hampshire, among which he was 
born. He dehghted in Marshfield and the shores of Plj-mouth, 
where he was bui'ied. He was warml}' attached to Boston 
and the people of Massachusetts, among whom he had Uved 
so long, and from whom he had so often received his com- 
missions as their Representative and their Senator in Con- 
gress. But in your noble City, as he said, he recognized 
' the commercial capital, not only of the United States, but of 
the whole continent from the pole to the South Sea.' ' The 
growth of this City,' said he, ' and the Constitution of the 
United States are coevals and contemporaries.' ' New York 
herself,' he exclaimed, ' is the noblest eulogy on the Union 
of the States.' He delighted to remember that here Wash- 
ington was first inaugurated as President, and that hei-e had 
been the abode of Hamilton and John Jay and Rufus King. 
And it was at a banquet given to him at your own Niblo's 
Garden in 1837, and under the inspiration of these associa- 
tions, that he summed up the whole lesson of the past and 
the whole duty of the future, and condensed them into a 
sentiment which has ever since entered into the circulating 
mediiun of true patriotism, like an ingot of gold with the 
impress of the eagle : ' One Country, One Constitution, One 
Destiny.' 

"Let that motto, still and ever, be the watchword of the 
hour, and whatever momentary perplexities or perils may 
environ us, with the blessing of God, no permanent harm can 
happen to oui" Republic ! 

" In behalf of my fellow-citizens of New England, I thank 
Mr. Burnham for this great gift to your Central Park ; and 
I congratulate him on having associated his name with so 
splendid a tribute to so illustrious a man. A New Englauder 
himself, he long ago decorated one of the chief cities of his 
native State with a noble Statue of a venerated father of the 
Church to which he belongs. He has now adorned the City 



472 appendix:. 

of his residence with this gi-and figure of a pre-eminent 
American Statesman. He has thus doubly secured for him- 
self the grateful remembi-ance of all by whom Rehgion and 
Patriotism, Churchmanship and Statesmanship, shall be held 
worth}' of commemoration and honor, in all time to come." 



On the conclusion of Mr. Winthrop's address, a fine 
band of music, which had played before the ceremo- 
nies and between the addresses, struck at once into 
our National Airs, while the cheers of the assembled 
multitude for the orators of the occasion ; for the statue 
and its accomplished artist, Thomas Ball ; and, above 
all, for its munificent donor, Gordon Webster Burnham, 
— gave the appropriate close to the proceedings. 

In the evening, Mr. Burnham gave a brilliant recep- 
tion in honor of the occasion, at his house, 128 Fifth 
Avenue. Nearly a thousand invited guests were pres- 
ent, among the most note-worthy being Governor Tilden, 
ex-Governors Dix, Morgan, and Hoffman, Mayor Wick- 
ham, Mayor-elect Ely, William M. Evarts, Robert C. 
Winthrop, Parke Godwin, Peter Cooper, August Bel- 
mont, Manton Marble, Fitz-John Porter, S. S. Cox, 
Rev. William Adams, D. D., Rev. Dr. Morgan, Peter 
Harvey and several other members of the " Marsh- 
field Club " of Boston, and many other political, cleri- 
cal, literary, artistic, and business celebrities of the 
metropolis. 

On November 27, 1876, the New York Board of 
Aldermen unanimously adopted the following preamble 
and resolutions : — 

'■^Whereas, Gordon W. Burnham, Esq., having placed in 
the Central Park, at his own expense, the colossal statue in 



APPENDIX. 



473 



bronze of Daniel Webster, -with the granite pedestal on 
which it stands, did, on the 25th daj- of November, instant, 
present the same to the Cit}- ; now, therefore, 

" Resolved^ That the Ma3'or, Aldermen, and Commonalty 
of the City of New York, appreciating the illustrious charac- 
ter and services of the statesman to whom this monument is 
raised, and rejoicing in the possession of a work of art 
which is so notable itself, and which so eloquently incites to 
patriotism and to devotion to the Constitution, do now, in 
grateful recognition of this renewed expression of the munifi- 
cence and public spirit of an honored fellow-citizen, present 
their thanks to Gordon W. Burnham for his memorable gift. 

^^ Besolved, That the Ma3'or be, and hereb}'^ is, requested 
to forward to Mr. Burnham an engrossed copy of the fore- 
going preamble and resolution, duly attested." 



INDEX. 



-»<>*- 



A. 

Aberdken, the Earl of, 168. 
Adams, John, dines with Webster, 

209 ; anecdote of, 210. 
Adams, John Quincy, 167. 
Adams, Samuel, 381, 382. 
Adams, VTilliain, 406. 
Appleton, Julia Webster, 329. 
Appleton, William, nominated for 

Congress, 193. 
AsHBURTON, Lord, discusses right of 

search with Webster, 167. 
AsHBURTON Treaty, negotiation of, 

163. 



B. 

Baltimore, Whig Convention at, 194. 

Bancroft, George, 164. 

Bakca, Don Calderon de la, 180. 

Bean, William, freedom purchased, 
313-315. 

Benton, Thomas H., relations with 
Webster, 222 ; anecdote, 223 ; recon- 
ciled with John Wilson, 227; rela- 
tions with Calhoun, 231; at Cal- 
houn's funeral, 232; character of, 
232. 

Blake, George, anecdotes of, 128- 
138, 264. 

Bramble, Matthew, case of, 67-73. 

Brougham, Lord, 258, 259. 



BuRNHAM, Gordon W., presents siatut 
of Webster to New York (Appen- 
dix), 449. 

Burr, Aaron, 75. 



c. 

Calhoun, John C, quarrel with Jack- 
son, 159; relations with Webster, 
218 ; last appearance in the Senate, 
220-222; funeral, 231. 

California, Webster's prophecy 
about, 203. 

Cass, Lewis, protest against Ashbur- 
ton Treaty, 163 ; arrival in Boston, 
164 ; controversy with Webster, 165 ; 
at the French court, 256. 

Choate, Rufus, 64; counsel in San- 
born case, 87; opinion of Webster 
as an advocate, 145 ; on refusal of 
Faneuil Hall, 183, 185, 189; visits 
Webster at Washington, 195 ; ac- 
tion in campaign of 1852, 197 ; Web- 
ster's regard for, 234; estimate oi 
Webster's ability, 235 ; anecdote, 
358. 

Clay, Henry, nomination for Presi 
dent, 198 ; contrasted with Webster, 
214; Webster's advocacy of, 215; 
hostility to Webster's nomination, 
216; Webster's estimate of, 217. 

Colby, John, visit of Webster to, 412. 



476 



INDEX. 



Crowninshield, Mr., 159. 
Curtis, Benjamin K., Webster's opin- 
ion of, 118. 



D. 



Dartmouth College case, anecdote 

relating to, 111 ; papers relating to, 

114. 
Davis, Isaac P., 264. 
Dextek, Samuel, Webster's opinion 

of, 81, 82; in the Supreme Court, 

208. 
Dickinson, Daniel S., letter from 

Webster to, 240. 
Duval, Gabriel, 209. 



E. 



Eliot, Samuel A., Webster's friend- 
ship for, 242. 

Elms Farm, Franklin, 294. 

Evans, George, 237-240. 

EvARTS, William M., address (Ap- 
pendix), 453. 

Everett, Edward, anecdote by, relat- 
ing to Webster's reply to Hayne, 
149 ; opinion of Webster as an ora- 
tor, 157; at the British court, 168. 



F. 

Faneuil Hall refiised to Webster's 

friends, 182. 
Fearing, Albert, 170, 173. 
Fillmore, Millard, Webster's opinion 

of, 199; Clay's opinion of, 216. 
Foote, Uenry S., 364. 
F'ranklin, Elms Farm at, 294. 



G. 

Gilmer, Thomas A., death of, 223. 
Goodyear rubber case, 102-104. 



Gore, Christopher, visited by Web- 
ster, 32 ; receives Webster as student, 
34; advises Webster to refuse clerk- 
ship, 37 ; in Congress, 176. 



H. 

IIarfer, Robert G., 208. 

Harrison, William H., appoints Web- 
ster Secretary of State, 160; anec- 
dote about inaugural message of, 
161 ; Webster's opinion of, 198. 

Hayne, Robert Y., Webster's reply 
to, 149 ; anecdotes of Webster and, 
152, 153. 

Hill, Isaac, 244. 

Hoar, Samuel, counsel in the Sanborn 
case, 87. 



Jackson, Andrew, diflSculties of ad- 
ministration of, 159. 

Jefferson, Thomas, Webster's visit 
to, 211 ; Webster's opinion of, 212. 

Johnson, William, 209. 



K. 

Kelp, use of as manure, 273 ; anecdote, 

274. 
Kennison case, 97-101. 
Ketchum, Hiram, 240. 
King, Rufus, 176. 
Kossuth, Louis, 261. 



L. 

Lawrence, Abbott, speech in favor 

of President Taylor, 172. 
Livermore, Isaac, 170. 
Livingston, Brockholst, 209. 
Louis Philippe, King of the French, 

court and conversations, 255-258. 
Lyndhurst, Lord, 258. 



INDEX. 



477 



M. 

Madison, James, Webster's visit to, 
74. 

Marshall, Chief Justice John, Web- 
ster's opinion of, 126; in Washing- 
ton, 176; in the Supreme Court, 
209. 

Marshfikld, Webster's first visit to, 
264 ; history of, 265 ; soil, 271. 

Mason, Jeremiah, compared with Jere- 
miah Smith, 56; Webster's friend- 
ship with, 57-8; Webster's first 
meeting with, 58 ; anecdotes of Web- 
ster and, 59-64 ; Webster's estimate 
of, 64 ; anecdote, 65 ; in the Bramble 
case, 67 ; eulogy of Webster on, 73. 

Monica, engaged as servant, 310; 
anecdote of, 312; grief at Webster's 
death, 312. 

MuMMA, John, anecdote of, 350. 



N. 



NoRRis, Moses, 244 ; speech at Frank- 
lin, 250. 
Northampton Will case, 105-110. 
NoYES, Parker, 50, 80. 

P. 

Parker, Joel, opinion of Webster as 
a lawyer, 44. 

Parsons, Theophilus, Webster's de- 
scription of, 81, 83. 

Pierce, Franklin, Webster's estimate 
of, 201-203; visit to Franklin. 244; 
speech, 251; nominated for Presi- 
dent, 253; friendship for Webster, 
254. 

PiNKNEY, William, quarrel with Web- 
ster, 119-123 ; Webster's description 
of, 120; anecdote of, 124; in the 
Supreme Court, 208. 

Plumek, William, Webster's opinion 
of, 207. 

Prbston, William C, 230. 



R. 

Randolph, John, Webster's contro- 
versy with, 119. 
Revere, Paul, 381, 382. 
Rusk, Thomas J., 241. 

s. 

Sanborn, John, case of 85-97. 

Scott, Winlield, candidate for Presi- 
dent, 197, 199; Clay's opinion of, 
216. 

Seward, William H., Webster's opin- 
ion of, 200. 

Shaw, Lemuel, Webster's opinion of, 
127; appointment to the bench, 127. 

Smith, Jeremiah, compared with Jere- 
miah Mason, 56 ; Webster's opinion 
of, 57. 

Sprague, Peleg, Webster's estimate 
of, 128. 

Stark, General John, meeting with 
Webster, 51. 

Stevenson, J. T., 193. 

Stockton, Richard, 208. 

Stoky Joseph, visit to Webster, 156; 
in the Supreme Court, 209. 

Sullivan, John, 377-381. 

T. 

Taylor, John, 295; anecdote, 297; 
letters from Webster to, 298-310. 

Taylor, Zachary, elected President, 
170; Webster's opinion of, 199. 

Thomas, Captain John, 264,268 ; anec- 
dote of, 269. 

Thomas family, of Marshfield, 265. 

Todd, Tliomas, 209. 

Tyler, John, Webster's opini.n jf, 
207. 

w. 

Washington, Bushrod, 209. 
Wayne, James M., opinion of Web- 
ster's legal ability, 143. 



478 



INDEX. 



Webster, Daniel, birth, 1; home- 
stead, 1 ; account of family, 9 ; affec- 
tion for Ezekiel, 10; learns death of 
Ezekiel, 15; relics of boyhood, 17; 
attends school, 17; anecdotes of boy- 
hood, 18-23; college poetr}', 23 ; as a 
school teacher, 24 ; anecdote, 25 ; law- 
reading, 27 ; predictions of future 
eminence, 28 ; studying law, 30 ; ad- 
mitted to the bar, 30 ; opmion of 
law studies, 31; visits Boston, 32; 
interview with Christopher Gore, 
32; becomes s student in Mr. Gore's 
office, 34 ; offered clerkship of Mer- 
rimack court, 36; seeks Mr. Gore's 
advice, 37; refuses clerkship, 42; 
Joel Parker's opinion of him as a 
lawyer, 44; tirst appearance in Su- 
perior Court, 45 ; opens an office at 
Boscawen, 47 ; anecdote, 47 ; de- 
scription of him at the bar, 48; 
removal to Portsmouth, 50 ; increase 
of practice, 51 ; anecdote of meeting 
with General Stark, 51 ; anecdotes, 
54, 55; opinion of New Hampshire 
judiciary, 56 ; counsel in the Bram- 
ble case, 67; anecdote, 70; anecdote, 
72 ; eulogy on Jeremiah Mason, 73 ; 
visit to ex-President Madison, 74 ; 
anecdote, 75; gives legal advice to 
Aaron Burr, 75; anecdote, 76; esti- 
mate of his own legal powers, 79 ; 
qualities as a lawyer, 79 ; opinion of 
Samuel Dexter, 81, 82; description 
of Theophilus Parsons, 81, 83 ; legal 
fees, 84 ; counsel in the Sanborn 
case, 85-97; counsel in the Kennison 
case, 97-101; anecdote about the 
KennisoE case, 101; counsel in the 
Good\'ear rubber case, 103-104; 
anecdote about horse " Trenton," 
104 ; counsel in the Northampton 
will case, 105-110; anecdote about 
Samuel Williston, 110 ; anecdote re- 
lating to Dartmouth College case, 
111; legal briefs and notes, 114; 
impressions of EngUsh courts, 116; 
length of American arguments, 117 ; 



opinion of B. R. Curtis, 118; con 
troversj' with John Randolph, 119 , 
opinion of duelling, 119; quarrel 
with William Pinkney, 119-123; 
description of Pinkney, 120; anec- 
dote of Pinkney, 124; friendship 
for William Wirt, 126; anecdote, 
126; opinion of Chief Justice Mar- 
shall, 126; opinion of Cliief Justice 
Shaw, 127; anecdote, 127; estimate 
of Judge Peleg Sprague, 128; rela- 
tions with George Blake, 128-138; 
estimate of his own forensic powers, 
138-143 ; Ruf us Choate's opinion of 
him as an advocate, 145 ; respect for 
the bench, 145 ; public life, 147 ; cho- 
sen a Representative to Congress, 147 
Senator and Secretary of State, 148 
nominations to the Presidency, 148 
speech in reply to Hayne, 149 ; anec- 
dote of Mr. Everett, 149 ; remarks on 
preparing speeches, 151; anecdotes 
of Hayne, 152, 153; letters on reply 
to Hayne, 154-156; Everett's opin- 
ion of him as an orator, 157; anec- 
dote, 158 ; powers of illustration, 159 ; 
anecdote apropos to Jackson Cabinet, 
159; appointed Secretary of State 
by President Harrison, 160; anec- 
dote about inaugural message, 161 ; 
negotiation of Ashburton Treaty, 
163; controversj' with Lewis Cass, 
165; despatch denying right of 
search, 169; dinner with the Massa- 
chusetts Electoral College, 170 
speech in reply to Abbott Lawrence, 
174; reflections on the past, 176 
conversation about public career. 
177; soliciting offices, 178; anecdote 
180; reply to French Minister, 181 
invitation to Faneuil Hall, 181 ; Fan- 
euil Hall refused, 182-193; delight 
at Appleton's nomination, 194; can- 
didate for Presidential nomination 
(1852), 194; disappointment, 195; 
conversation on politics at Marsh- 
field, 196-203 ; opinion of Harrison, 
198; of Clay, 199: of Fillmore, 199; 



INDEX. 



479 



of Scott, 199; of Seward, 200; of 
Pierce, 201 ; prophecy concerning 
California, 203 ; opinion of political 
econom}-, 204; caution in speaking 
of others, 205 ; criticism of public 
men, 206; respect for President Ty- 
ler, 207 ; opinion of William Plumer, 
207 ; description of leading lawyers, 
208; veneration for John Adams, 
209; visit to John Adams, 210; visit 
to Thomas Jefferson, 211 ; opinion of 
Thomas Jefferson, 212; contrasted 
with Henry Clay, 214; advocacy of 
Clay, 215; hostility of Clay, 216; 
opinion of Clay, 217; relations with 
Calhoun, 218; anecdote of 7th of 
March Speech, 219 ; relation with 
Benton, 222; anecdote of W. and 
John Wilson, 224; opinion of Silas 
Wright, 233; regard for Rufus 
Choate, 234; relations with William 
C. Preston, 236; opinion of George 
Evans, 237; friendship for Hiram 
Ketchum, 240; letter to D. S. Dick- 
inson, 240; opinion of Thomas J. 
Rusk, 241 ; friendship for Samuel 
A. Eliot, 242 ; visit to Franklin, 243 ; 
dinner party at Franklin, 244-253; 
conversations with Louis Philippe, 
255 ; at the French Court, 255 ; in the 
British House of Lords, 258 ; estimate 
of Lord Lyndhurst, 258; estimate of 
Lord Brougham, 259 ; in the English 
courts, 260 ; speech about Kossuth, 
261; home life, 263; first visit to 
Marshfield, 264 ; farming tastes, 
272 ; introduces kelp and men- 
haden as manure, 273; attachment 
to Marshfield, 276; anecdotes about 
cattle, 276, 277; fondness for ani- 
mals, 278; boating habits, 279 ; 
anecdote, 280; favorite horses, 282; 
anecdote, 282 ; names of guns, 283 ; 
fondness for shooting and fishing, 
283 ; sporting anecdotes, 283-294 ; 
kindness to birds, 291 ; love for 
Elms Farm, Franklin, 294 ; interest 
in farming, 295 ; ill at Frankliu, 



296; anecdote, 297; letters to John 
Taylor, 298-310; engages Monica 
as servant, 310; aids in purchasing 
Bean's freedom, 313 ; personal traits, 
316; devotion to family, 317 ; physi- 
cal vigor, 317; description of per- 
sonal appearance, by Fletcher, 318; 
affection for first wife, 318-322; 
letters of Grace Fletcher Webster, 
322-328; anecdote of courtship, 328; 
anecdote, 329 ; grief at daughter'a 
death, 331; early friendships, 332; 
dislike of scandal, 335; absence of 
rancour, 336; courtesy in debate, 
337 ; kindness of heart, 338 ; anec- 
dotes, 338, 339; neighborly kind- 
ness, 340 ; anecdote, 341 ; anecdote, 
344; fondness for familiar scenes, 
346; visit to New Hampshire, 34(i': 
anecdote of personal courage, S50; 
sense of humor, 355; anecdotes il- 
lustrating humor, 355-366; habits 
at table, 360; daily habits, 366; pro- 
priety in dress, 366 ; love of flowers, 
367; fondness for the sea, 368; in- 
difference to wealth, 368; anecdote, 
370; charity, 371; anecdote, 372; 
anecdote, 374; love of good stories, 
876 ; anecdotes, 376-381 ; anecdote 
of Samuel Adams and Revere, 381, 
382; anecdote of Indians, 383-386; 
in England, 388; anecdotes, 388- 
390 ; discourse on the age, 390; re- 
ligious thoughts and feelings, 393 
on importance of the Sabbath, 393 
religious character in youth, 394 
account of joining the church, 396 
appearance in church, 398; taste in 
sermons, 400; as a practical Chris- 
tian, 402; anecdote, 402; friendship 
for Dr. Adams, 408; conversation on 
religion, 406 ; fondness for Watts's 
hymns, 409 ; anecdote of visit to 
John Colby, 410 ; anecdote of his 
father, 411 ; last days, 422; acci- 
dent at Kingston, 422; anecdote, 
423 ; journey to Boston, 426 ; illncM, 
425; last conversAtioos at Marsh- 



480 



INDEX. 



field, 428-436 ; incidents of last days, 
437-444; death, 444; Dr. Jeffries' 
account of death, 444; mourning at 
Marshfield, 447; resting place, 448; 
statue in Central Park (Appendix), 
449. 

Webster, Ebenezer, birth and char- 
acter, 2; as a revolutionary soldier, 
3; guards Washington's tent, 4; 
family, 8. 

Webster, Edward, 286. 

Webster, Ezekiel, Daniel's affection 
for, 10; early struggles, 11; teaches 
school, 12; character, 14; death, 15. 

Webster, Fletcher, 183, 276, 283, 286, 
289, 318, 329, 3S5, 426, 441. 



"Webster, Grace Fletcher, 318-322; 
letters of, 322-328 ; courtship, 328. 

Whig party, career of, 198. 

WiCKHAM, Mayor, address (Ap- 
pendix), 453. 

WiLLisTON, Samuel, anecdote, 110. 

Wilson, John, anecdote, 224; recon- 
ciled with Benton, 227. 

W^iNSLOw family, 266. 

WiNTHROP, Robert C, address (Ap- 
pendix), 461. 

Wirt, William, Webster's friendship 
for, 128 ; anecdote, 126. 

Wright, Silas, Webster's opinion of, 
233. 



URENTANO'S 



